Meet Me At The Faire
by Lone Songbird
Summary: Ch. 64 New! Harry Potter & Labyrinth. Focus on Bill Weasley and a new character with Labyrinth history. Two people meet while on vacation at a Renaissance Faire at a time when there is trouble for both of them back home. Rated for bit of strong language.
1. Prologue

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 9, 2011._

_Obligatory and somewhat superfluous disclaimers and other such sundry: _Labyrinth_ is copyright by The Jim Henson Company, _Harry Potter_ by J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I make no claims at ownership of them, and I hope I make no offense by borrowing them and letting my imagination take them on a side trip._

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**Prologue**

Once upon a time, in the land of the Fae, there lived a Goblin King. His apparent role in the world was to take children who had been wished away and turn them into goblins. The one chance for redemption was for the person who made the wish to partake in a test. This test was to complete a labyrinth, getting to the center and the castle beyond the Goblin City. Most failed to reach this goal, to finish the Labyrinth.

Once upon a time, in the land of the Fae, there lived a Goblin King who knew defeat only once. This Goblin king had a problem: he had become quite infatuated with a mortal girl. She had unwittingly wished away her baby brother, subsequently entering the Labyrinth. Unlike all the others, she won and appeared to leave the land of the Fae forever, leaving the Goblin King alone and denied.

Once upon a time, in the land of the Mortals, there lived a young girl. She had flippantly said The Words and wished her brother away, not realizing the power The Words held. The Goblin King appeared to her, and brought her to the Labyrinth. She fought her way to the castle beyond the Goblin City, through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, taking back the child the Goblin King had stolen. Too young to understand the truth of what the Goblin King had offered, she denied him and returned to her own world.

Once upon a time, a bit later than before, in the lands of the Fae and the Mortals, a Goblin King and the only mortal girl who defeated the Labyrinth confronted their feelings. The girl, as she grew older, never found anyone who could fulfill the desires of her heart. The Goblin King, as time went on, realized that his infatuation had become more powerful, for he kept watch over the girl as she grew into a young woman and found in her a strength and beauty that could not be compared. Soon, he was hoping against hope that one day she would be able to return the love that grew in him as she matured. One day, he went to her and courted her, winning her heart against all odds. She willingly returned to the land of the Fae to reign by the side of her Goblin King.

Many years passed...


	2. One: Katrin

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 9, 2011._

**Chapter One: Katrin**

Katrin's arms were laden with various instruments. As she had just finished her last scheduled set, she had decided to return to her tent and deposit most of her load. She walked slowly across the Green, heading toward the camping area behind the trees and beyond the sight of the patrons. That she would be so ready to keep such valuables in an unattended place caused a few of her fellow performers to raise an eyebrow or two, but no one really questioned her trusting behavior anymore. After all this time, most people she worked with regularly were aware of her generous spirit. They all knew that should they find themselves in need of anything, was Katrin to hear about it a solution would be found. Her tent was always open for a session of trouble divulging, a safe place to go to cry and receive comfort, or simply for a midnight chat. She easily won the hearts of the veteran performers after her first few weekends of faires, and now, three years later, she was one of the most well known acts among the patrons. On occasion, some mischief-maker or other who was new to the scene would think to relieve her tent of its musical burdens. They would not get far, however, before finding themselves caught by the self-designated 'Kati Protectors.' Somehow, this group of vigilantes always managed to uncover the 'Evil Schemes To Do Harm.' The miscreants in question would thence be marched to whatever locale Katrin could be found in and told to apologize. At this point, she would sigh and, with a look of disappointment, she would say something to the effect of, "If you were in such great need, you had only to ask." And with that, she would take the person (or persons) under her wing and find out what troubling matter provoked such drastic actions. This, of course, regularly astounded those who knew her not and slightly puzzled those who did.

Her means, which would allow such generosity, were unknown to just about everyone she worked with at the faires. Though kind, caring, and friendly, Katrin remained a private and quiet person. Her 'Protectors' knew better than to take their efforts away from the faire grounds and into her personal life. She was almost always available at the drop of a hat whenever one of her friends should call, and a select few had the privilege of visiting her small apartment in the city. But no one really knew what she did, besides playing at faires. It was usually discussed when she was not around, and the general consensus was that she either had some wealthy relation who had left her a large trust fund, or she had been extremely lucky with some investments at an early age. No one really knew for sure, and they never bothered to ask. They figured that she had her reasons for keeping secrets, and they loved their Kati for all her eccentricities.

Katrin arrived at her tent, dwelling on the ponderings of her friends and acquaintances, for she knew the rumors though all attempts were made at keeping her in the dark. "They don't know how close they come with their guesses," she muttered to herself as she struggled with the opening. She managed to get inside without dropping anything, and as she placed her instruments safely down on her bedding she began to chuckle softly to herself. Pulling her long, brown hair over her shoulder, she contemplated it for a moment before deciding to loosely braid it to keep it out of her way as she wandered around for the rest of the day. Tying it with a small piece of leather, she picked her guitar out of the small pile and, slinging it over her shoulder, she exited her tent.

Her thoughts turning to her 'generous spirit,' she remarked aloud, "I wonder where it comes from..." A small rustling in the trees caused her to look up and she caught sight of a snowy owl. Katrin laughed. "Well, it certainly wasn't from you!" If ever an owl could pull an indignant expression, this one did just that. "Oh, come on. No need to get all miffed," she told it, still laughing. "We all know what your definition of 'generous' is."

She suddenly sobered and took a step closer to the tree. Looking furtively around the campsite to ensure she was alone, she asked it in a low voice, "What are you doing here, anyway? It is not even close to dusk. Pray, is something wrong at home?" The owl shook itself, fluffing its feathers and shuffling its feet on the branch. Katrin's eyes narrowed. "You're not keeping a 'watchful eye' on me again, are you?" The owl seemed to grow uneasy under her penetrating stare. "Honestly, I'm twenty-three years old. One would think you'd finally be able to trust me to handle myself. Besides, you know and I know and practically everyone who walks in the gates knows that I have a troop of big brothers practically aching to show their devotion. So stop worrying!" She smiled warmly at the owl, then shoed it away with a flick of her hands. "Now get out of here before someone sees you and starts wondering what an owl is doing sitting in a tree at four in the afternoon." She paused. "Not only that, but wondering what I am doing talking to said owl!" The owl hopped on its branch then flew off into the trees. Katrin chuckled to herself once again then, shaking her head, turned back to the faire grounds.


	3. Two: Bill Weasley

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 9, 2011._

**Chapter Two: Bill Weasley**

Bill made his way through the thick foliage. He was finally getting away on a well-deserved vacation. His mother could not understand why he was spending his holiday doing such a Muggle-like activity. And in America of all places! He could just hear her now. _"You know that there is very little known magic there, Bill. Separation from the old ways and all that... Muggle technology..."_ She had gone on for hours about how it was so far away and such an unknown place. He had tried to explain that situations were not really as bad as she made them out to be. Although, in truth, part of the reason why he picked this particular vacation spot was because he was hoping for a little get-away time from the magic world. He knew that he would get precious little of it in the months, perhaps even years, to come. Most of his family and friends thought he was either a bit mad for wanting to get away at this moment or he had some strange urge for adventure. Only Charlie was supportive and understanding of his real reasons.

_It makes perfect sense to me, Bill _(he had written),_ that you want to get away from anything involving magic for a change. I know Mum's reaction will be to beg you not to go, especially what with all that is going on with the Ministry, Hogwarts, and You-Know-Who. And I agree with you; if things are crazy now, they will be nothing in comparison to what might go on in the near future. You had best take advantage of the offer of a holiday from everything for a while. I wish I could come along with, but after the 'break' for the Triwizard Tournament I came back to complete havoc here in Romania._

_As for where you could go, I have a mate here to whom I mentioned your plight. He suggested this place over in the United States called _ Park. I've enclosed a brochure he gave me. It's some sort of National preserve or something. He went there a few years ago and loved it. What better way to take a breather than in the middle of the wilderness? You've always had that hobby of drawing plants and birds (Yes, I know about that. We shared a room for years, remember? And no, I haven't told anyone). This way no one will be around to notice if you decide to wear something a little more wizard-like in the middle of the woods. If anyone did see you, they'd just think you are artsy or something._

_You'll come back in two weeks feeling completely rejuvenated and ready to face whatever the mucky mucks at Gringotts will throw at you... or whatever it is that we'll all be preparing to face. Maybe you'll even find what it is you're looking for._

It was that last sentence that clinched the idea for Bill. _Find what I'm looking for_, he thought. _If only I knew what it _is_ I'm looking for!_ Charlie had known for years that Bill was not satisfied with his life. He had always felt as though something were missing, but he could not tell what. In the meantime, he dedicated himself to his work and travelled quite a bit doing curse breaking for Gringotts. It was fun, and he enjoyed it. But still...

Well, for the moment he would simply enjoy himself in the woods. Some of the flora and fauna on this continent were quite different from that which he had seen before. Not necessarily more beautiful, just different. And he was rather amazed that these National Parks and woods could be so secluded, void of all sign of civilization though in the middle of miles of highway and city.

He travelled on, hiking for a few more hours, pausing now and again to take a sketch of this flower or that bird. He was traveling fairly light, feeling quite like the character from the film he saw on the plane ride over. _The plane ride. I have to remember to tell Dad all about that_. The film was about this man named Jones who was always getting into trouble at archaeological digs. All Bill thought he needed was the hat and the whip! He already had the right trousers and jacket, and, although his shoes were hiking boots made out of dragon skin, he did have a similar pouch as well. It held his sketchbook, a light lunch, and some water. And, of course, hidden at the bottom, his wand. Being a wizard came in handy. He probably would not have been able to carry so little otherwise.

Just when he started to get hungry, he thought he heard some trumpets blaring and then people cheering. The noise cut in and out, as though he was only close enough to hear it when it came to a distinct roar or when the wind was traveling in just the right direction. Pulling an apple out of his pouch, he decided to allow his curiosity to get the best of him and headed in the direction he thought it came from.

Eventually, Bill came to a small road. _This must be the edge of the park_, he thought. He heard rather than saw the car coming, and ducked down so as not to be seen. After seeing which direction it went, he looked right and left to make sure no one else was coming then hopped out of the bushes and walked after it. Every 50 yards or so he saw a colorful sign that read: _Annual _ Park Renaissance Faire! Come join the revelry! Open to the public_. Not really knowing what a Renaissance Faire could be, he was a bit skeptical yet intrigued enough to find out about this festival which must obviously be celebrating a new period in American culture so nice it was titled after the great developmental period of in European history.

As he walked along, the music and cheering became louder and louder and, at a few points, he thought he heard horses. It did not take long before he arrived at a fairly large parking area full of cars. At the opposite end, he saw what looked like a small castle gate, complete with chains connected to a lowered drawbridge. Ever intrigued, Bill walked straight towards it.

As he got closer, he could make out some of the words that people were shouting. Bill grew concerned when he heard a voice shrieking out a curse of some sort, something about a pox and a codpiece. He reached inside his pouch and adjusted his wand, making it easier to grab. He was not quite sure what was going on here, but he thought he might as well be prepared. And if there was something dark and sinister... Well, he hoped that he was overreacting. _So much for a vacation free of worry caused by the magical world_. Bill drew a deep breath and, not without some trepidation, made his way through the gate.


	4. Three: Ponderings At My Lady's Rose

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 9, 2011._

**Chapter Three: Ponderings At My Lady's Rose**

Katrin arrived at the Rose a good hour early for her mid-day set. She had purchased her regular lunchtime fare earlier than usual at her favorite stand. The only time she ever ate Chinese stir-fry was at faire and she never got tired of it. Rather than sit out on the Green in the sun, she opted for the shade. There were three 'alehouses' this year at the _ Park Faire, but only the largest one had tables rigged up. It was at the center of the shopping row and attracted the most people. One of the patrons from the year before had enjoyed himself so much that he immediately volunteered afterwards to help. Not really one for acting, he designated himself as the 'Procurer of Obscure Objects and Builder of Useful Things.' Somehow, he had managed to find several old, wooden ale casks, which he laboriously transformed into tables. The other two alehouses were small and settled for hay bales, and most of the tables were scattered near the various food vendors. However, My Lady's Rose, as it was lovingly christened, was large and airy enough for a few of them. Katrin settled at one such table in a corner.

Things were quiet in the Rose for the moment, the big crowds not really gathering until closer to noon. It was one reason she had decided to come early. The other reason being she needed time to think. All the other faire participants knew when she was eating early and sitting in a corner it meant she wanted to be alone for a bit. Many of them wished they could return her offer of a shoulder at times like this, though they knew she would just smile, thank them warmly, and decline. It was not so much that she did not want to share with them, but _how_ to explain the things that were weighing her mind. The issues were certainly not normal.

She was not sure why her father's visit of the previous afternoon had bothered her so. Although she had teased him about keeping a watchful eye on her as he had done so often when she first started playing the faire circuit, his lack of vocal response disturbed her. Her father rarely made appearances in the mortal world in his other form during the day unless there was a problem of some sort. But if it were truly serious, she would have expected him to simply waltz in looking human. _More or less human looking is more like it_, she thought. She reflected on his answer to her posed question about things at home. His tendency to elude questions with vague answers rarely applied when speaking to his family. She was not sure if that was by his choice or by the insistence of her mother. Yet when he responded...

_"What are you doing here, anyway? It is not even close to dusk. Pray, is something wrong at home?" The owl shook itself, fluffing its feathers and shuffling its feet on the branch._ He didn't shake his head, or respond in her mind. She had not picked up on it at the time, but she realized now that it was not a definite no. And the last time he had done something like that was...

Katrin shuddered. _Best not to think about that, she thought. Not here, not now. Surely they cannot be related issues. But why would he bother checking on me? And I have been getting this bad feeling in the pit of my stomach since the beginning of the season all those weeks ago. Perhaps it is just a coincidence. But then his avoiding a direct answer... He did shake to imply no, so things must be fine as far as 'domestic' situations go. Which means Mother and the boys are surely fine. Is there some sort of political scenario that is developing?_

She replayed the events of the Court from the last few years, but could not come up with any discontent that was out of the ordinary. Nothing out of the ordinary here in the Mortal realm either, if you can call war, terrorism, and general destructive behavior as not out of the ordinary. _Mortals... they never seem to learn_. Katrin now felt a desperate desire to go Home, but she had to finish out this weekend first. Hopefully, she would not have to break contracts and promises and would be able to come back in time for the final weekend of this faire. Playing and performing were her only outlets for creativity, something she probably inherited from her mother, as well as her only escape from the tediousness of Court. And her time spent here was the only time she truly felt free. Not that she was under any real constraint at any other time, of course.

Katrin shook her head. _My, how the mind doth wander_. She looked around and saw that the act before her, a lively trio who played only obscure Dutch folk songs from the 15th and 16th centuries, had just finished tuning and were beginning their set. The songs, while indecipherable (more due to the bad pronunciation than the actual Dutch text), were fast and fun, drawing many patrons to see what it was all about. The members of the group also told funny stories as well, and more importantly knew how to prepare a crowd for the next performer. They loved preceding her act as well, since she often included the musical acts before her in what she called a 'Round Robin Reel' as they finished their last number. Though begun on the melody of whatever song ended their set, it never ended up traditional for she would improvise on it and challenge them to do so as well until the tune spun out of control. Yet it never lost its musical quality. Realizing she had about half an hour before she had to go on and had not yet touched her food beyond poking at it a bit, she dug in. Putting her discontented thoughts behind her out of necessity, she vowed to think on this more after the day was done lest she forget to enjoy her time here, and mentally prepared herself for her performance.


	5. Four: Please Come Through The Gates

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 9, 2011._

**Chapter Four: Please Come Through The Gates**

Bill peered through the opening cautiously. He realized that the 'castle gate' was made out of artfully painted wood that had been propped upright. He looked around, amazed at what he saw, and completely unsure of what it all meant. It seemed like something straight out of one of his history books from back in his days at Hogwarts, and completely contradictory with what he knew about the behavior patterns of Muggles. Many people were wearing strange clothes for Muggles: gowns of extreme elegance, men in... tights? Knights with swords, women with baskets and wooden buckets. Yet none of them appeared to be doing anything particularly magical, there was not a single wand in sight and there was not the feel of magic either. And then there were groups of normally clad people milling about taking it all in with amusement. He was not sure what to make of it all. Perhaps it was some sort of theatrical presentation. But then, he had heard that Americans tended to be a strange sort...

A portly gentleman who had been sitting at a table watched the young man hesitating at the entrance. He could tell that this newcomer had never been to a historical re-enactment before, and was a bit intimidated and perplexed. Thinking to ease a bit of the discomfort, he bustled over.

"Greetings, m'lord!" said he. "I am Reginald, one of the Keepers of the Gate. Welcome to the _ Park Faire!"

"Um...hello. I'm Bill."

Reginald grinned. "Pray, sir, is this thy first faire experience?"

"Well, I suppose so, yes."

"Ah. And wouldst thou mind if I ask in what way thou hast discovered our festivities?"

"I was just walking through the woods and heard some music and shouting so I-"

"Of course!" he interrupted. Reginald took Bill's arm and led him to the table. "Allow me to acquaint thee with a few things, sir." Handing Bill a leaflet, he continued. "This doth outline the events of the weekend. As it is just past noon on Sunday, we are almost finished for the weekend, but thou shouldst be able to see some jousting and get acquainted with things before the day is through. And, mayhap, thou shalt return next weekend! The leaflet also has a map of the grounds. It is a $12 entry fee, sir, and all proceeds go back into funding for next years faire."

Deciding that he might as well since he was already here, Bill reached into his pouch and withdrew a few of the green notes the Muggles in this country used as money. _Dull stuff, really. No variation of colors at all!_ After paying, he took a glance at the map and walked into the main grounds. Spotting a tented area with many people gathered around sitting on bales of hay, Bill wandered over and sat down as well so he could peruse the information within the leaflet. He discovered that this was an annual event celebrating England's history during the reign of Queen Elizabeth I. _Nothing evil about it at all. Just people with an avid interest in the past who want to share their knowledge and play a bit of pretend._ He also found out that there are many such faires around the country from the adverts for a few of them in the leaflet, although this particular one was only in its third summer.

As he started to look through the schedule outlining the events for the rest of the afternoon, Bill noticed movement in front of all the hay bales. He looked up and realized that he was in a sort of tented auditorium, and there were people on the 'stage'. He watched and soon became entranced by a brief magic show. It was more a demonstration of illusion than the true magic he was used to, but Bill found the whole thing entirely refreshing. Everything was so simple, yet the viewers were quite heartily entertained. When it was over, the performers passed around a little hat and some of the audience members were dropping coins or notes into it. Bill happily obliged as well, thinking that it was going to a well-spent afternoon. He decided then to forgo the schedule and simply wander around, seeing what he could see and hoping to get a better grasp on this whole idea of a 'Renaissance Faire' and why it held such an allure to people who were, apparently, all very much Muggles.


	6. Five: What To Do Next

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 9, 2011._

**Chapter Five: What To Do Next?**

Katrin leaned back as she held out a note on her fiddle. Just when it seemed that it would never end, she resolved the chord, thus finishing her final song of the set. People began to applaud, as well as hoot, holler, and catcall. She did her normal thanking the audience and pass-the-hat spiel, an action she did more for the face of it than anything else. It was not as though she needed the money, after all. There was, of course, a sense of satisfaction knowing what she did have at the end of the weekend was earned. Doing a final plug for her last performance at the day, which was to take place later in that afternoon, she presented the stage to the storyteller who usually followed her act. Most musicians were reluctant to go on after her so, as he was enough of a novelty on his own to both bring and hold an audience, Gustav readily took the stage.

Katrin packed up her instruments and tried to decide what to do whilst she waited for her next performance. She did have some shopping to do for various birthdays and anniversaries, but that would mean carrying her instruments around with her...

One of the serving girls brought over her tankard filled with water. While Katrin loved a pint of good ale or a glass of mead as much as the next performer, she did not want to have any alcohol before she was done working for the day. Especially not in this heat. She stood there, listening to Gustav's first story as she downed the cool, clear water. Then, gathering her things, she headed for the second largest alehouse at the faire. On top of the hill that overlooked the jousting area, many people would go to the tented area whilst a battle was taking place if the sun was too much for them. She would be the closing act for the place this weekend, and figured she could leave most of her things there until it was time to start. That way, she could spend the next few hours wandering around, unburdened by a load. Completing that task in no time at all, Katrin set out to spend some time relieving her pouch of the earnings she had gathered in the past day and a half.

* * *

Bill was amazed at all that he had seen throughout the day. He could hardly believe all the fun he had as well. He wondered if there was anything like this back home and, for that matter, how many people in the Wizarding community were aware of the existence of such events. He knew how many of his kind believed that most Muggles were a rather dull lot with little creativity. What a surprise this would be. He decided to do a bit of research on the subject when he got home and find out how the whole affair was started. Assuming, of course, that there was anything in the magical libraries he frequented.

He was snapped out of his reverie by the voices of some people standing next to him in a candle shop. "But why go to the upper alehouse when we can go to the larger one by the big field, Lars?" a woman was asking.

"Do you remember the musician we heard earlier at the larger one while we ate lunch, Annie?" At her nod, Lars continued. "I just saw her purchase something here and run out after telling the owner that she was going to be late. I know it isn't as big as the other one, but this alehouse is above the jousting field and there should be some final things going on there."

"Oh, she's absolutely brilliant!" Annie grabbed a laughing Lars' arm and practically dragged him along the path. "Come on, let's go so we can get good seats!"

Bill wondered who this performer was, as well as what sort of drinks this alehouse would serve. It had been a rather hot day and he was starting to get thirsty. _I don't suppose I would be so lucky to find they have Butterbeer over here_. But at the word 'seats,' he realized that his feet were starting to hurt a bit as well and decided it did not really matter what they served as long as he could sit down too. With that, he hurried after the couple.


	7. Six: Sing Me A Ditty

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 9, 2011._

**Chapter Six: Sing Me A Ditty**

Katrin arrived at The Jouster ten minutes before her set. She had completely lost track of time, especially at the candle booth. Her debate over which scents would be approved of by both her parents took longer than expected. Whilst her mother adored scented candles, her father would complain (loudly) about the purpose of candles being to light a room not perfume it. It was one of the many ongoing battles between the two of them, both being quite stubborn and determined to win. Katrin was one of the small number who knew that the legendary fights between the pair were more of ongoing joke than anything else. The arguments were over trivial and superficial things and resolutions were rarely made as they argued for the sake of arguing. They began these very public 'debates' to keep the attention of the busybodies at Court away from more personal and private matters (including more serious conflicts which were usually resolved quickly and with some sort of compromise). This original purpose still remained, but over the years a game developed and careful record was kept. Katrin and her siblings became the referees and at the end of the year the loser would have to plan a unique prize for the winner. Sometimes, the issue being argued would not even really matter to either party, but they took one side and had at it for the sake of the show.

Dutiful daughter that she was, Katrin purchased a variety of the scandalous hand dipped scented candles at each faire she attended over the summer and presented the lot to her parents at the beginning of autumn eagerly awaiting the new reasons her father would give for snuffing the flame in company (although he 'secretly' enjoyed the candles as much as her mother). She was careful, though, to avoid the scents that her parents truly did dislike. Most of the time, the choosing was an easy task, but sometimes the combinations were tricky and difficult to decide upon.

By the time she was done, she found the hours had completely flown by and, in fear of being too late to get settled, she ran up the hill to The Jouster. As she stood by the bar, trying to catch her breath and setting up her instruments for her soon-to-start performance, she took stock of the audience gathered around and tried to feel out the general mood.

* * *

Bill could not be sure, but there was something... almost magical about this girl. It did not have anything to do with her performance. There was simply something about her that fairly drew him in. He first caught sight of her as she stood by the bar and gazed across the crowd. Now, as she stood on the makeshift stage singing and playing her songs, telling her stories and jokes, he could not keep his eyes off her. He was determined to discover just what, exactly, it was about her that had him so entranced.

Unfortunately, he was not sure that he had the time this afternoon. He checked today's schedule again and found that this performance was the last for this alehouse and the faire would be closing to the public about an hour hence. Perhaps he could contrive to meet her before it closed. Then, he could come back next weekend and talk to her more. Maybe he should just ask her to go out on a date. _A what? You are out of your mind, Fitzwilliam Theodophilus Weasley, _he thought to himself._ One, you don't even know the girl. Two, you're going back to England in a week and a half. And three...what makes you think she'd go for you? _Well, fine then. Maybe they could just become pen friends._ Are you twelve years old? Pen friends?_ Bill made a mental note to have a serious discussion with his rational side later on and find out when it became so cynical. Stoically, he ignored himself and concentrated instead on her music and what he should say later on.

* * *

The ever-watchful pair of eyes focused on the young man with red hair. He was not quite sure what to make of him. He was dressed somewhat like Indiana Jones, but with long hair tied back in a ponytail and a bizarre tooth-like earring, he looked more like he should be on that Crocodile Hunter show than sitting at a Renaissance Faire enjoying a glass of mead. What disturbed the watcher most, however, was the look in the stranger's eyes. Many people watched Kati perform with intense adoration and, sometimes, a touch of envy. But this stranger... something was different about it. Not really sure what would happen next, the owner of the eyes sat back and kept watch over this red headed visitor, just in case.


	8. Seven: Do Mine Eyes Deceive Me?

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 9, 2011._

**Chapter Seven: Do Mine Eyes Deceive Me?**

Katrin felt her heart race. She could not figure out what it was about his intense stare, but she had a hard time not staring right back. _As long as it doesn't affect my performance, _she thought as she began the next song. This one was a fiddle number and, while she could sing as she played this instrument, there was no text to the song. Fingers and bow flying, so familiar it was instinctive, she was able to think about this 'thing' she was feeling. She could not decide if she was glad he was a patron or not: it would be much easier to find out who he was if he was an actor, but much more complicated should they decide to date. _Date? Are you listening to yourself? Some random person catches your eye and looks at you with interest and you automatically want his number? _Maybe they could just be friends._ Haven't you learned anything from the last few slime-balls who tried to be 'friends?'_ Katrin told herself to shove it, then decided she had to do something about her habit of talking to herself. As she launched into a cover of one of her favorite Dubliners songs (one that enough people always knew and could sing along to), she tried to come up with a way of meeting him that wouldn't draw too much attention. Especially from her adopted 'Big Brothers.'

* * *

Applauding as much as the next person, Bill was sorry to see her getting away from the stage area. He still had not come up with a Brilliant Plan A, let alone a fall back plan, so he busied himself with finishing his glass of this drink called 'mead' and tried to be surreptitious about watching what she would do next. As she packed up her things, he heard her say that she would be taking her things back to her tent._ Oh great. Now what? Just follow her around? If only I could think of a reason to strike up a conversation..._ As she walked by, he noticed a small pouch had come loose from her belt and had fallen nearby. Noticing no one else noticing it, Bill got up and retrieved it from the ground with a grin. _Ask and ye shall receive, I suppose_, he thought as he hurried after her.

* * *

The eyes narrowed slightly as they saw the stranger subtly reach for Kati's fallen pouch. He could not believe that she would be so careless as to drop it, but for this stranger to just pick it up rather than say something... And worse, to leave with it rather than give it to the workers at the alehouse! That was irreproachable. Determined to catch him before he disappeared into the crowd of people heading away from the jousting field, the watcher downed the last of his ale and hurried after the retreating figure.


	9. Eight: You Dropped This Back There

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 9, 2011._

**Chapter Eight: You Dropped This Back There**

"I beg your pardon, miss." Katrin heard a deep voice behind her as a hand tapped her shoulder. She hoped they belonged to the person she wanted them to belong to. She still could not believe she had been so bold as to purposely leave a personal item behind, but she figured that if he did not see it, one of her 'sworn protectors' would be sure it was returned.

Katrin stopped and turned, squinting her eyes against the sun. "Yes?"

Bill tried not to sound nervous. "Sorry to bother you, but you dropped this back at the alehouse after your performance." He held out the small leather pouch, then realized how ridiculous it was to expect her to grab hold of it, laden as she was with her instruments and bags. "Uh... actually, here... let me help you."

Blushing, Katrin relinquished her guitar and bag with the smaller pieces of Stuff in it. _I cannot believe I am blushing..._ "Grammercy, kind sir." She bobbed a small curtsey and after each adjusted his or her load, they stood there staring at each other, not paying much attention to the crowd milling about them.

"Where are we-" "If you would just-"

"I beg your pardon-" "Oh sorry, go ahead-"

"No really, ladies first-" "Please, after you-"

Realizing they were not getting very far with this discussion, the pair started laughing. Bill noticed how the sound reminded him of the wind chime on his parents' back porch. He smiled at her and Katrin was taken with how his eyes fairly glowed with warmth. Knowing she was about to start blushing yet again, she rushed out, "Right this way, sir, if you please," and headed down the hill.

Bill grinned wide. "But of course, my lady." She smiled at him over her shoulder. "By the way, my name is Bill."

"Katrin," she said as she slowed a bit so they could walk side by side. "But most people around here call me Kati."

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

"And you. I'd offer to shake hands, but..." Katrin lifted her full hands. They both laughed again.

"So how did you come by the nickname?"

"Well, I have a cousin who couldn't pronounce my full name when he was learning how to talk so he just stuck with Kati. My father sometimes calls me that to tease. During my first year doing the faire circuit, he came to check it out and some people heard him call me that. It stuck ever since. It was strange, actually, because he usually only does it in private. I've always been Katrin everywhere else, which is a shortening itself of my full first name."

"Really? What's the full thing then?"

"It's nothing exciting, really. Just a family name, rather long and sometimes a mouthful," Katrin admitted, somewhat embarrassed.

Not wanting to seem like he was prying, Bill did not push it much further. "Well, at least your nicknames are still unique. There's nothing too exciting about Bill. It's short for Fitzwilliam, which is rather archaic. It isn't even a family name. My dad heard it before I was born and thought it was the perfect name. Mum wasn't too sure about it being perfect, but she liked it fine enough. But I haven't been called that in years, even when I would get in trouble. I think it got too much, especially with the rest of us kids getting in trouble together. It was easier to shorten all our names a bit." Realizing he was babbling, Bill grinned sheepishly at Katrin.

She laughed and shook her head, then paused. "Well, perhaps I'll tell you my full name. But not here, or someone might hear it and then I'd never hear the end of it! But only if you tell me the names of your siblings as well."

"But of course." They smiled at each other and continued on their way.

* * *

Once they had started talking, the watcher realized that he probably had best not interrupt them whilst they were standing on the Green. It might cause an unpleasant scene, and he wanted to avoid that at all cost. Not that he cared about the red haired stranger's comfort, but he would hate to cause Kati distress due to embarrassment.

What happened next, however, practically caused him to fall over in shock. The stranger had first made her blush, indeed she appeared to be much amused by him. Then, much to his disbelieving eyes, Kati handed some of her instruments to him. She _never_ had done anything like that before, always politely refusing any offers of assistance to carry her load. This stranger must, indeed, be quite the charmer. The watcher noticed they had begun to head toward the camping area and, determined to get rid of this troublemaker, pursued the pair.


	10. Nine: A Helping Hand or Two

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 9, 2011._

**Chapter Nine: A Helping Hand or Two**

Bill looked around at the various shaped, sized, and colored tents that were scattered around the grove behind the faire site. A few braziers were scattered here and there, and something he recognized as being a propane grill. _Wouldn't Dad love to get his hands on that! _Apparently, this was where most of the performers and quite a few of the merchants stayed over the weekend. _I wish I could take a picture of these; something like that would be useful at the World Quidditch Cup._ He shifted his weight from one foot to another as he waited for Katrin to come out of her tent. CRUNCH "Mm glmt fsndt," he heard from inside the tent. Leaning down closer to the opening, Bill replied, chuckling, "What was that?"

"I said - oh!" Katrin thrust her head out of the tent and smacked her forehead into Bill's. He flew backwards, ending up sitting on the ground. Katrin jerked up, got stopped by the top of the tent opening, and nearly ate dirt. She managed to catch herself on her hands just in the nick of time. However, in doing so she ended up throwing the apples she had brought out for the two of them, one of which flew straight toward Bill's head. As she looked up at him, he was rubbing his forehead looking at the apple that was now on the ground beside him. He slowly turned his dumbfounded gaze toward her own half-horrified expression that was covered by one hand.

They both started laughing again. "Are you alright?" Bill rubbed his forehead once more and got to his knees to give her a hand. She started to crawl out of her tent but, because of her skirts, got caught in the opening. "'Sblood! What next?" Bill stood up and, between the two of them, they managed to get Katrin propped up and twisted around. He reached around her and opened the tent a bit more and Katrin took a step out. Balancing herself with one hand on Bill's shoulder, she slowly and carefully turned around before releasing him.

With a grin, he took a step back and made a gallant bow, offering his hand. "Could I be of assistance, my lady?"

"Again, I thank thee, kind sir." She took his hand and stepped completely out of the tent, but not without getting her foot caught on something and flying straight into Bill's chest. She knocked him completely off his feet and landed on top of him. "Oof..."

* * *

He had finally made it away from the crowd and down to the camping area. Some woman had snagged him and wanted pictures of 'the nice man in the adorable costume' with each of her children separately, then in pairs, then with the whole family. The watcher rolled his eyes in reflection and burst into the grove just as he saw the red haired stranger try to drag Kati somewhere. Her resistance must have caught him by surprise, for he ended pulling her too hard and they were in a jumbled mess on the ground. This had gone too far!

"BLACKGUARD!" he yelled as he rushed to the scene.


	11. Ten: Ector

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 9, 2011._

**Chapter Ten: Ector**

Bill and Katrin looked at each other, laughing all the while. Starting to get up, their movements were halted by the yell coming from across the grove. They looked up to see a young man in Renaissance garb running their way. "Ector..." Katrin muttered.

"Who?" Bill asked.

Before she could respond, Ector had caught up to them. He grabbed Katrin around the shoulders and quite literally hauled her off the ground and set her to one side. "Stay out of the way; I'll take care of this fiend!" he announced. Turning back around, Ector reached for Bill. Grasping him by the lapels of his coat, Ector pulled him off the ground as well, this time hauling him close.

Katrin could see that Bill was glaring at his captor. Well, glaring was not quite it. It was more of an I-am-trying-not-to-lose-my-tember-because-there-has-to-be-a-rational-explanation-for-this-but-you-are-not-making-it-easy look in his eyes. She decided to put a stop to whatever was going on before it got out of hand. _As though it hasn't already. That boy, I swear..._

Ector opened his mouth to begin his lecture. Before he could get started, however, a tap on the shoulder interrupted him. He suddenly had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Somehow, he knew that the person who was behind him was not pleased. _It couldn't be Kati, because I'm helping her_, he thought. Ector turned his head, slowly. _Then again, maybe it could..._

Bill took advantage of Ector's distraction to gently remove his hands from his jacket. He took a step to the side to see what had caused the distraction. He raised an eyebrow at the scene in front of him and grinned.

Ector looked as though he had been caught trying to get into the Restricted Section of the Library after being told off numerous times for doing it before. He looked quite sheepish and more than a little nervous. Bill really could not blame him and felt a little sorry for the young man. Katrin stood about two feet away from Ector. She had drawn herself upright, looking quite tall (though she was not, really) and... imperial. Her left arm crossed her body, right elbow leaning against the back of her hand. Her right hand rested against her chin and mouth, index finger tapping lightly on her cheekbone. One eyebrow was raised and she was looking at Ector with something that looked like a mixture of disdain and disappointment.

"Well, well, well. Ector." Katrin started. She realized by her tone that her voice had gone cold. _And probably my stare as well. Hmmm... who do I remind me of? _She chuckled internally. "And just what did you think you were doing?"

Ector swallowed hard. This was not the reaction he was expecting. "I um well I saw and I thought and um... helping?"

"Ah. Of course. 'Helping.' Now then, for the past few years I have tolerated this protective regiment you and some of the other boys have created. And while the prevention of true harm is one thing, misinterpreting a harmless situation is another. Especially when that means mauling a bystander and a patron of the Faire." She dropped one hand and wagged a finger at him with another. "Tsk tsk... I should see that you are dropped head first into the B-"

"No!" Ector sounded horrified. Katrin just raised the other eyebrow. "Not that! Not another dunking in the Barrel of Shame!" Bill looked back and forth at them a tad confused. _What in the world is a Barrel of Shame?_ "Come on, Kati... I had to go through that already three times and it was so embarrassing. I'm really sorry. I won't butt in again without thinking first."

Katrin looked at him for a moment and sighed. "Well, alright. But don't let it happen again." Ector nodded. "Oh and Ector... It was supposed to be embarrassing. Hence the name?" She grinned at him then started to chuckle.

Ector just stared at Katrin for a moment and then smiled back. He turned to Bill and grinned sheepishly. "Sorry about that. I get carried away sometimes."

"No problem," Bill grinned back and was about to say something else when a loud bell clanging interrupted him.

"Oh, I have to go. Parade. Bye!" With that, Ector ran off leaving the two of them alone again.

Bill and Katrin looked after him, the former slightly bewildered and the latter slightly bemused. Still chuckling, Katrin turned to Bill, "That bell is for the final parade. All the nobles walk around and then the Faire closes."

"Oh. Well I guess that means I should probably go then..."

"Aye, I suppose so..." She did not particularly want him to go, but couldn't think up an excuse to have him stay.

"But before I go, I have two questions."

"Alright"

"Um... would you like to go for tea or coffee or something some time this week?"

Katrin was delighted and smiled at that, but chose not to answer right away. "And the second question?"

_No answer... bad sign?_ "What in the world is a 'Barrel of Shame'?"

She started laughing again. "I'll tell you about that over coffee at Alistair's tomorrow at eleven." They stood there for a moment just smiling at each other, and then the bell rang again. "Come on, let's go watch the parade and I'll tell you how to get there."


	12. Eleven: Alistair's Coffeehouse

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 9, 2011._

**Chapter Eleven: Alistair's Coffeehouse**

Alistair's Coffeehouse was located in the ground floor of a large, semi-Victorian style house. The floor above housed a small art gallery and bookstore and the top floors made up the residence of the owners. It was a nondescript building for the most part, nothing really stood out on it to make it much of a tourist attraction. The only strange thing about it was the architecture. As for its appeal...

Most tourists headed for the chain coffee shop across the street with the flashy signs. But to the locals who inhabited the town and worked in the nearby city, Alistair's was the place to be. There was always the occasional tourist who caught sight of the small sign indicating something more than a house. However, normally you either grew up knowing of it or you were told about it by someone who had. Otherwise, you probably would not even realize it was there. Yet everyone who walked in fell in love with the place.

The Coffeehouse had a comfortable atmosphere and long hours. Students would converge there to study. Artists could be found painting or drawing in a corner (and their work was often displayed upstairs). Now and then there would be poetry readings or musicians livening up the place. But it was never too crowded. The dishes were colorful and though none of it matched, it all seemed to fit together. Seasonal flowers adorned the tables. Separating the front of the café from the back was an indoor hedge planted in large, mismatched pots. The owners remembered you if you came in only once before. A bit eccentric, much like the décor, they were kind people who always knew if a customer was troubled and took time to listen.

One of them stood at the counter, humming as she sliced a plum cake. It was around 11:15 and she and the other owners used this time to finish getting ready for the rest of the day. Jennifer was downstairs in the cellar where the larger kitchen was located, putting the finishing touches on a few deserts before they would be brought up to be put in the dessert case and baking bread. Breanne was busy upstairs putting together some new centerpieces with the flowers that had come in earlier. Sheryl was upstairs with her, matting and framing some new watercolors that had arrived over the weekend. The boys, as she fondly called them even though they were all in their late 20's or early 30's, were out running errands. At this time of the day, the Coffeehouse was rarely busy. They opened early in the morning, but people who came in before lunch either just wanted coffee or would sit out in the gazebo area or, if it was raining, in the Garden Room behind the hedge. Those were the most spacious areas and the morning regulars liked the openness provided. The morning customers would get tables set up for them as they came in, and the rest of the café would be set up as the morning went on. It was all casual and laid back at Alistair's.

The sound of laughter drew her attention to the large bay window at the front of the house. There were three small tables in that space, plus the window seats that used the over-sized sill as a sort of counter. In the late afternoons and evenings, it was usually where the studiers would converge. It was a rather crowded space, but they did not mind sharing with each other, completely caught up in whatever it was they were doing. It was often the last place to be set up since Bree normally did her flower arranging there. Today, however, Bree did not want to leave Sheri without company upstairs and had taken all her things up there. So, Nell had put fresh tablecloths and table settings down in the window area as well. _It was a good thing I did_, she thought, regarding the young couple sitting at the table closest to the window. With no one else around, it was the most secluded spot in the Coffeehouse.

When Katrin came in that morning, she seemed almost relieved that it was already available. Nell realized why when the young man came in. Introducing her friend as Bill, they ordered their drinks and went over to the sun-filled area. She put slices of plum cake on two plates, garnished them, and set the plates on the tray. Adding a sprinkle of cinnamon and a tiny sprig of mint to the foamy lattes, she set those next to the cakes. Taking it over to the two, she caught the tail end of what Bill was telling that seemed to have Katrin in stitches.

"My dad's curious fascination with m-, er, _foreign _cultures drives my Mum crazy. She thought it endearing at first, that's why she agreed to our names, but it has become something of an obsession of his and kind of gets him in trouble." Bill said with a grin.

Katrin giggled. "So that's why they got shortened?"

"Well, no. It's more because she got tired of yelling our full names after us when we would get in trouble." Katrin started laughing even more. "Seriously. Imagine her running after us with a kitchen spoon yelling, 'Fitzwilliam, Charlemagne, Percival, Frederick, and Giorgione get back in here right now!' It's much easier for her to just use Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, and George. My youngest brother and my sister have it easier. They have been just Ronald, well, Ron and Ginny from birth."

"Oh my," Katrin shook her head, still chuckling, then looked up as a plate was set in front of her. "Oh! Thanks Aunt Nell. That was fast... but we didn't order any cake. We were thinking of having lunch here closer to noon."

"They're on the house, Katrin. One cannot have a vanilla latté without plum cake! Besides, dessert always tastes better when had before the main course."

Bill grinned, "Thank you, ma'am."

"Oh, it isn't a problem, and don't call me ma'am. Just Nell will do fine. I'm going downstairs for a moment to see if Jen needs any help. Just ring the bell if you need anything before I get back."

Katrin nodded. "Ok, Aunt Nell."

Nell smiled at them and headed down the stairs that were near the window section. _Just wait until I tell the girls about this one_. Her grin got even bigger and she started humming once again.

Bill watched her leave then turned back to Katrin, curiosity on his face. "Aunt Nell?" he asked before taking a bite of the cake. "Wow, this is good."

"Mmmhmm." Katrin agreed, finishing her own bite. "It should be good, it's Aunt Nell's grandmother's recipe. And she's not really my aunt. When I first came Abo- about the area, she helped me get settled. The whole crew of owners adopted me, I guess. They do that with any 'lost souls', as they call them. People who come around looking for _something_ but not really sure what that something is or where to find it often end up here. One of them takes that person in and helps him or her figure out what to do next. That usually includes giving them jobs and a roof until they're ready to get out on their own two feet. They're actually the ones who got me into the Renaissance Faire scene, thinking the interacting with people would do me some good. I guess it did because I got hooked, and have been involved ever since. They're the nicest people."

"Oh." Bill took a sip of his latté and another bite of cake as he thought about that. "So who is Alistair?"

"A stray cat," came the answer from the stairwell. Nell came back into the room carrying a tray of baguettes. She smiled at them again. "Now do stop talking about us crazy owners and go back to discussing each other. I'm sure that is a much more interesting topic." She put the tray behind the counter then picked up a stack of tablecloths and went back behind the hedge. Bill blinked.

"I guess she likes you," Katrin told him as she looked at the entrance to The Garden Room, her fork frozen mid-air.

Bill ate another bite. "Well, I guess I won't beg for her disapproval by going against her orders." Katrin smiled at him. "But first, speaking of the Faire... let's go back to the Barrel of Shame, hm?" He grinned at her.

She laughed again. "Well, it's like this..."


	13. Twelve: The Barrel of Shame

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 9, 2011._

**Chapter Twelve: The Barrel of Shame**

"The Barrel of Shame isn't anything spectacular," Katrin explained. "It's basically used as a way of reprimanding people who break rules of propriety while 'on stage' at Faire. We have a barrel filled with cold water. A big hullabaloo is raised and it doesn't make much sense to the patrons, except that it appears someone is being ritually punished. We try not to let out what it is that the person is really being 'punished' for, because depending on what they did it could be bad for P.R. But the punisher and the punished know, and that's what really matters. The people in charge don't want to have to kick people out for minor things or first time offenses, but a slap on the wrist doesn't do much. They figure humiliation might work better. For the people who care, it does. For the people who don't care, well, they usually stop playing with us after that anyway saying something about how we aren't any fun."

Bill chuckled. "Sounds rather effective. But if it is for first time offenses, how did Ector get so many?"

"They were for different things. Ector's problem is that he just doesn't stop to think ahead all the time. He gets excited and carried away. The first time he broke character, which isn't that bad, but he did so and used profanity in the hearing range of patrons. It was just one word, and luckily no one was offended, but that sort of thing is not allowed. So he got a dunking. Another time, he was taking part in a performance and had an idea that would make it more entertaining. Only problem was that he decided to follow through with the idea mid-performance. It completely changed the direction of the show. Needless to say, the other actors were not too pleased with that one. It was something of a breech of protocol, so, in he went!"

"Poor Ector. Would you have really dumped him in again?"

"Well, no," Katrin admitted. "I just wanted to see him squirm a bit. I must confess I have a somewhat... well, mischievous streak in me that comes out now and again."

Bill's grin widened. "Mischievous streak, eh? You'd probably get along famously with Fred and George. The 'mischievous streak' in just one of them is worse than Charlie and I put together when we were their age."

Katrin giggled. "I'm sure. Ector sends his apologies again, by the way. I had a talk with him after Faire closed. He and some of the other boys seem to think that I'm in great need of protection. It's ridiculous, but it makes them feel good about themselves. No one has ever taken it so far as to maul a patron before, though. I wanted to make sure it wouldn't happen again. He was profoundly embarrassed."

"It isn't a problem. I'm actually glad you interfered before I lost my temper. I have more control over it now than when I was younger, but sometimes... well, you know what they say about redheads."

"That they're Irish?"

"Oh, Aunt Nell!" Katrin exclaimed with mirth. "Honestly. Didn't anyone ever tell you it isn't nice to eavesdrop?"

"Come, come, dear. I needed to take your plates out of the way. Besides, you said you wanted to order food closer to noon, and it is almost noon. Here are some menus." She handed them two small, plastic covered sheets of paper, gathered the cake plates, and then turned to Bill. "Well? Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Irish, of course."

"Uh, no, I'm English."

"Yes, I can tell that by your accent. I was referring to your heritage, dear."

"Not that I know of, but I never really thought about it."

"Oh, but you should. Genealogy is very fascinating. You never know who you are related to." With a nod she swept off and disappeared through some swinging doors behind the counter.

"Does she always do that?"

"What?"

"Come upon you unawares, randomly interject something in a conversation, and then leave again?"

A shrug accompanied Katrin's grin. "Well, yes. I guess you just get used to it though. Just flits in and out like a bird, and she tends to be rather high energy as well. Sometimes you don't know what it was that hit you until she's gone."

"Oh." He picked up his menu. "So what's good?"

Her grin widened. "Everything."

Bill chuckled. "That helps. What do you recommend? Or will I get the same answer?"

"Of course!" Katrin nodded cheekily. "Actually, they frequently change what they serve, sometimes on a daily basis. It just depends on the mood of the cooks, and what's available. But it's always good, and everything has something unique to the person who came up with the recipe or a story as to where the recipe comes from." She leaned over and pulled his menu down to the table, pointing at the item on the top. "For example, the combination for this salad..." As they discussed the different items on the menu, both of them scooted their chairs around the table so they were sitting next to, rather than across from, each other.


	14. Thirteen: Goodbye For the Present

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 9, 2011._

**Chapter Thirteen: Goodbye For the Present**

It was just before 2:00 in the afternoon. The sun was still shining brightly, warming the pedestrians as they wandered around. A fairly steady stream of people had been going into the large house. Some left shortly with paper-wrapped packages of food. Others seemed ready to stay for long hours. Through the large windows at the front, the gauzy curtains only slightly concealed the couple, their empty plates indicating they had been there already for a length of time. He was sure they had been there for at least three hours, though he had not been waiting on the sidewalk all that time. He had first called at her apartment close to eleven, letting himself in with the spare key she insisted he use if ever he was to stop by.

After looking through the books on her shelves for about half an hour, he became impatient and went in search of her. First, he stopped at the park where she often practiced. When he did not find her there, he walked into the town, stopping at the various places she frequently haunted. It took him nearly two hours, but he found her – _with_ someone. His eyes narrowed as he wondered who this... person she was talking to could be. They had finished eating, but were making no motions to leave. _Well, I am not going to stand here staring in the window, waiting all day._ He decided to return to her apartment and leave a note asking her to get in contact with him. He walked back down the sidewalk, turning onto an empty street. The tall, blonde man looked both ways, double-checking to make sure no one was there, before disappearing in a swirl of glitter and feathers. Moments later, a man pushing an ice-cream cart came around the corner. Had he chanced to look up, he would have seen an owl soaring away in the sky.

Katrin pushed her plate toward the center of the table. "The problem with coming here is I always end up too full to leave, even if I only intended to drop in for coffee!"

"Oh, I believe it." Bill replied, spearing the last tomato on his plate. "The only time I usually get to eat like this is when I go back home in England to visit the family."

Katrin leaned forward eagerly. "Tell me about England?"

"Well, it's part of this group of islands often referred to as the United Kingdom..." Bill's grin echoed Katrin's from earlier. She threw her napkin at him in response.

"Oh, you. That isn't what I meant!"

"No?"

At his innocent look, she picked up her soupspoon and threatened him with it. "Don't make me use this on you."

"Now, now, peanuts. No fighting with the flatware," came the rebuke from across the room. They looked over at the counter where Nell was adding whipped cream to a mug of something-or-other.

"I still haven't figured out how she manages to see what goes on across the room when her back is turned." Katrin muttered.

"Reminds me of one of my teachers at the school I went to."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Professor McGonagall. She could spot trouble a mile away. You learned quickly never to start anything when she was in the room."

Katrin giggled. She was about to ask him to tell more about his school and growing up when a large gonging sound echoed from a grandfather clock somewhere upstairs. "It's already two?" She wondered aloud. "I should probably go. I have some things I need to do this afternoon." _Like finding out what my father was doing peeking at me through the window. He probably thought he was being sneaky or something. What in the world is going on?_

Bill noticed that she seemed to drift off, as though thinking about something else. He coughed gently. "Well, I had a good time today. I'd like to see you again... sometime..." _Oh, that was smooth, Weasley. What happened to not starting something because you're going back to England in a week? Not to forget what it is that you'll be going back to... what a mess that will be..._

Katrin snapped out of her reverie. "Yes. I mean, me too. I mean, I would like that as well. Where are you staying? I could call you there?" _So forward? Mother would fall over._

Bill wondered why he felt queasy all of a sudden. "Actually, I'm sort of camping out so I don't have access to a telephone." _Great. Now what?_

"Oh... Well, can you get into town on a regular basis while you're here?"

"Sure."

"Great! The library a few blocks down has free access to the Internet. We can email each other. It isn't the same thing as actual talking, but we can figure out times and things that way, I guess. What's your email address?" _Email each other? How corny can you get..._

Bill had a blank look on his face. "Uh... I don't have one." _What in the world is email?_

"Oh," Katrin blushed. After a moment of slightly uncomfortable silence, she reached out and grabbed a packet of artificial sweetener from the container at the center of the table. Pulling a pen out of her bag, she scribbled something down on it and handed the packet to Bill. "That's my email address, and the website where you can get a free one as well. We can keep in contact that way, and I'll see you next weekend at the faire?" She hoped she wasn't sounding too eager, but knew that eager is exactly what she felt.

"Sounds like a plan to me!" Bill replied, looking at the packet. He wasn't sure what email was or how it worked, but he was determined to find out. Especially since he couldn't very well ask her to send him an owl. He put the packet in his pouch and grinned at her. She beamed back. They stood at the same time.

Katrin slung her bag over her shoulder. "So...I'll hear from you soon?"

"I'll head to the library right now."

"Great," she smiled at him. "Well... bye then." Suddenly feeling a bit shy and embarrassed, she gave another smile and a wave and scooted out the door. She stopped on the sidewalk in front of the window and turned back, waving once more. Bill grinned back at her and waved as well.

As the food was paid for when ordered, Bill gathered his things and headed out the door. He paused in front of the counter where Nell was standing. "Thanks again. Everything was wonderful."

"Not a problem. It was nice to meet you, Bill," she replied. "I do hope you come back."

"I think I will," he grinned. "Can't get food like this over a campfire."

She laughed. "No, indeed. Now get along with you." He waved and went out the door. Nell wandered over to the table and started clearing it off. She gazed out the window at the retreating figure of the young man. _Hmm... these are strange tidings. Katrin comes in and introduces a young man, but fairly runs out without saying goodbye to me as she usually does. They did seem to enjoy each other's company, and he was so polite, but something seemed to be troubling them at the very end. It did not seem to be each other, though. Simply previous burdens which had been temporarily forgotten. And the man in the window earlier reminded me of her father. I thought he doesn't come looking for Katrin around here as a general rule. He usually leaves her to the privacy she finds here._ The tinkling bell of the door opening caught her attention and she returned to the counter to greet the next customers. _Very strange, indeed..._


	15. Fourteen: Strange Tidings, Indeed

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

_(Author's Note: Does anyone know how to make indentations stay? I'd like to delineate between letters and regular text without using center alignment or a horizontal ruler. Suggestions are welcome!)_

**Chapter Fourteen: Strange Tidings, Indeed**

Katrin stared at the vibrant purple cow magnet stuck to her fridge. Although it was not so much the magnet which drew her gaze as the note beneath it:

_Just dropped by to say hello and check up on you. When are you coming home next? Your_ _mother wants you to bring that quiche recipe. I will not tell her about the young man._ _Yet. Give us a call._

_- Your loving dad._

_Ok, he wants me to come home, but does not want to tell me to do it because he does not want to worry me, so he is trying to be casual, _she thought. She wondered if he realized that every time he tried to be casual he was either guilty of something or hiding something. _He probably has no clue. Typical. _If she was not so concerned about the fact that he obviously wanted her to go Underground, and soon, she would have been slightly irritated at his insinuation about Bill. She sighed and looked at the note again. _What in the world is going on back Home that he's having me come back early? The Faire season will be over in a couple of weeks, so I would have headed back then anyway. If I go Home now, I might not make back it to Faire on the weekend. I hate breaking contract. Maybe I can just come back Aboveground for it. Bill goes back to England next Monday. And I was hoping we could do lunch again or something. Oh, pox on't. Always complicated..._

She reached out and plucked the note and magnet off the fridge. At her touch, they turned into a crystal sphere. She tossed it in the air once, then put it on top of a pile of apples in a bowl on the counter. She wanted have a cup of tea before she got into things with her father. After putting the kettle on to boil and pulling out her recipe box from a drawer, she wandered to the other side of the counter and turned on her laptop so she could type up the recipe for her mother.

Bill sat in front of one of computers in the quiet library. He was relieved to get one in a corner, that way he did not have to feel embarrassed as he read the instructions in the little pamphlet. After he asked the librarian for instructions, the five year old standing behind him in the queue loudly announced to the entire place that he was, indeed, not knowledgeable in the ways of the Internet. That was more than enough attention already. He had since decided that this Internet thing was quite useful, although he did not find any information about Hogwarts or even You-Know-Who when he searched for them using that yahoo place. _I wonder where the nearest place back home is that I can go on the Internet. _He grinned. _I doubt Mum would appreciate me bringing up more Muggle contraptions, though Dad would surely enjoy the distraction._ The reminder that there were things out there that one needed to be distracted from chased the smile away from Bill's face. He sighed. _There really is no sense in worrying about it now, mate. You are on vacation and should use the time to relax rather than try to solve problems that are unsolvable from here. And speaking of distractions..._ He pulled out the packet of sugar Katrin had written on and set it next to the keyboard, then he proceeded to register for his very own email address.

"Message for you, sir!" announced Katrin's laptop. She had just added milk to her tea and was about to reach for the crystal when her program announced the arrival of a new email. She stared at the computer across the counter for a moment. _Could it be... nah, not this soon, surely. And I should wait to check it in any case until I've spoken to Dad. Find out what the deal is. Yes, that sounds like a good idea._ With that conviction in mind, she walked back around to the other side of the counter and clicked on the little envelope in the corner of her screen.

_To: Katrin [FireyFairey(a)unknowndotcom]_

_From: Bill [IndianaWeasley(a)unknowndotcom]_

_Subject: Hi. It's me, Bill_

_Date: Mon, - August - 16:48:35_

_Hi Katrin,_

_It's me, Bill. But I would guess you've figured that one out already. As you can see, I_ _now have an email address. It's IndianaWeasley(a)unknowndotcom. This Internet thing is great! You_ _can find ANYTHING on here! ... Well, almost anything, anyway. It took me awhile to figure_ _it out though. And now the library is closing. At least, I think that is what is going on._ _There is a librarian with an impatient look on her face staring right at me and drumming_ _her fingers on the tabletop. It's the same look Madame Pince would give us. So I guess I_ _will go now. I'll come back and check this thing again tomorrow morning. I had a great_ _time this afternoon!_

_Cheers,_ _Bill_

_Indiana Weasley_? Katrin giggled. _And it sounds as though he's never experienced the Internet before. Weird. _She moved her mouse over the reply button, then remembered that she was going to call Home. She figured she might as well wait until afterwards to reply, so she would know what was going on and where she'd be this coming week. Besides, if Gertrude was the librarian staring at him, which was likely since she always closed during the week, then he didn't stand a chance if he tried to wait for her reply. She went back to the fruit bowl and picked up the crystal.

Bill returned to the little spot he had scouted earlier as a campsite and barely contained his yell of surprise. Perched on a log was a spotted owl. It was looking at him rather impatiently, as though it had been sitting there for ages and was put out with him for making it wait up this long.

He put his things down next to the log and squatted in front of it. The owl was not one he recognized, but it held out its leg politely so he could untie the note attached to it. Scanning down to see who signed it, he saw that it was from Charlie and dated this morning. "How did you make it all the way out here?" he asked the owl in surprise, though he did not really expect a reply. Bill scratched it on the head. "You're not waiting for a reply, are you?" It hooted softly and fluffed its feathers. "I'll take that to mean 'just read the letter, already'," he told it as he sat on the log next to it to read the note, still pondering how the owl made it across the ocean in less than a day.


	16. Fifteen: Please Come Home

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

**Chapter Fifteen: Please Come Home**

"I'm not quite sure what all the details are. The Fae have tried to avoid interfering in matters of the Mortal World - including the Magical Realm - over the past few hundred years, unless it was absolutely necessary," the voice came from inside the crystal bubble floating in front of Katrin.

"Avoid interfering? Is that what you call the whole snatching Uncle Toby thing?" She grinned at him.

He grinned right back. "That was absolutely necessary."

"Ah, of course." She twirled a lock of her hair around her fingers. "Well, if you don't know all the details, then you can't know that this situation falls under the 'absolutely necessary' clause. So why get involved at this stage? Why all the secrecy? Or is it _because_ you don't know all the details?"

"You always were one to pick up on these nuances." Her father sighed. "Technically, what they have told me does not qualify it as something we should interfere with. However, considering the source, I cannot _not_ get involved. At this stage, they ask only advice. Since that is a rare request, I cannot deny it in good conscience."

"You keep saying 'they'. 'They' who?"

"I figured you would ask that. 'They' are a group of Goblins who have been running a bank in the Magical Realm of the Mortal World for nearly a millennia. Their Majesties did not require a relationship of such length and history to be disconnected simply because they deemed it wise to hide our existence. As my subjects, the Goblins in charge of this bank would not reveal the Secret in any case."

"_Goblins_ in charge of a bank?" The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. "I mean, not that I question your judgement or their capability since they've been doing it so long, but..." she trailed off.

"But you never would have expected that?" He chuckled at her slightly bewildered look. "It is a long story, but suffice it to say they are a different breed than those which run amok in my kingdom."

"I guess that makes sense." Katrin pondered this information for a moment. "OK, not really. But that is neither here nor there. What I don't understand is why _I_ have to be there if it is _your_ advice they want. I'll come, definitely, but why?"

He sighed again. "Reinforcements, so to speak. It will look better if the whole family is at the formal reception. Shows no dissension among the ranks, unity on the matter, that sort of thing. Besides," he paused and his look darkened slightly, "there is something about this whole matter that I just don't like. I doubt that anything will happen to you, but it will be easier to formulate our position if everyone is there. I don't want to make this decision without everyone involved, because it has the potential of affecting all of you."

"Our position?" she hoped he was not implying what she thought he was implying. "Do you mean in case things get presented at High Court?"

"Exactly." He rubbed his hand across his face. "I hate all these politics. It would be much more efficient if I could just run things the best way for my subjects without having to go through all this ceremony every time a situation arises."

"When is this formal reception?"

He grinned at her once more. "Do you not mean 'when is the latest I need to be there so I can spend more time with a certain red-headed young man'?"

"Oh for crying out loud, Dad-"

He held up his hand to silence her. "I am only teasing you, Kati. Unfortunately, while the reception will be in the day after tomorrow, I will need you tomorrow morning to help get everything prepared and for some family time. We will be in full regalia." He chuckled at her groan. "Also, I do not know when all will be finished, so I cannot say whether or not you will be free to attend your Faire on the weekend."

Katrin sighed. "Well, I can always plead family emergency. Things come up, for everyone, and they know that. I guess I'll see you in the morning."

"Please, try not to sound so excited to come see your beloved family." She giggled. "I shall tell your mother when to expect you, but not about this red-headed fellow. You can give us both the details at the same time."

"DAD!" He chuckled again and Katrin shook her head. "Tell everyone I said hello, and I'll see them soon. And that I send my love. Even to you, though I daresay you're getting crotchety in your old age." He bowed his head and faded out of sight. The crystal floated gently into her outstretched hand. She eyed her computer. "Well," she announced to the empty room, "I suppose I must needs reply to that red-headed fellow's email." Shaking her head and muttering something about how she didn't think she'd hear the end of this until mid-winter, Katrin gracelessly plopped down in front of her laptop.

* * *

Bill sat on the log staring at the letter from Charlie, which he held limply between his fingers.

_I hate the fact that I am actually sending this, but I think it's an emergency. Someone named Spindleprick contacted me trying to find you. I daresay it is rather difficult telling a goblin that you're not going to give him the information he wants. Apparently, he got the same response from Mum and Dad, but thought he'd try me before using 'other methods.' Didn't like the sound of that much, so I said I'd get a message to you. It'd only be fair, since you are on vacation and all. A sheepish and apologetic goblin is something I will probably never see again. At least you know they didn't really _want_ to bring you back early? Anyway, his message is as follows:_

"_Be at Gringotts H.Q. Tuesday at 9:30 pm."_

_Not one to waste words, are they? When I asked him if that was it, he told me the matter is 'highly confidential business.' So much for your relaxing time off in the middle of nowhere. Hope you had a good time while it lasted._

_Send me an owl when you get back. You'll probably have to Apparate to get back faster, so you can just bring this owl with you when you do rather than make him fly on his own. Then you can just use him to reply. I'll be coming home in a few weeks as well. I'll tell you about it when we're both there._

_See you soon, Charlie_

"Damn." Bill folded the letter and put it in his pouch. "This doesn't sound good at all. I wonder what is going on..." He turned to the owl. "Well, what do you say to this plan? You take what is left of today and tonight to rest and do whatever it is you owls do. I'll go back to town in the morning and email Katrin. Maybe if I get there early enough, I'll get a reply before I have to Apparate us back to England. When we get home, I'll do what Charlie suggested and send you back to him then." The owl hooted at him before flying off into the trees. "I'll take that as a yes." He pulled out his wand and used it to string up a hammock between two trees. He conjured up some dinner, then settled down for the night.

As he lay there, looking up at the stars, he thought about how he would explain to Katrin that he had to leave and would not return for some time, if ever. _I knew that I'd be leaving in a week... but still... I thought we'd had a week. Hopefully we can keep in contact, but where do I go for this email back home? Maybe she'll give me her address and we can write to each other via Muggle post. But then where would she write back to? I suppose I could try to ring her; Dad and Ron found a telephone to ring Harry that one summer. But she wouldn't be able to phone me back. Asking for her telephone number and not giving one in return sounds a bit dodgy. Plus, from what I understand, telephoning someone that far away gets expensive. _He sighed heavily, pulling a blanket over his head and squeezing his eyes shut.

_Honestly, _he thought before falling asleep,_ could things get any more complicated?_


	17. Sixteen: There's Been A Change of Plans

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

**Chapter Sixteen: There's Been A Change of Plans**

Bill sat on a bench in front of the library until it opened. As he walked to the back where the computers were located, he noticed the librarian of this morning look him up and down with a "Tuh" of disapproval. _That's exactly the look I get from Mum every time I refuse to let her trim my hair,_ he thought with a chuckle. He was thinking about how to word his next email to Katrin as he logged into the website, when he saw with surprise that he already had an email from her.

_To: Bill [__IndianaWeasley(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_From: Katrin [__FireyFairey(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_Subject: Alas and alack_

_Date: Mon, - August – 20:14:21_

_Bill,_

_Or should I call you Indy? Where did you come up with that one? :)_

_Unfortunately, it looks like I won't be able to see you before you go back to England. I spoke to my father tonight. There's some sort of family emergency back home, so I have to head out tomorrow morning. I'm not even sure if I'll be back by this coming weekend in time for Faire. I had lots of fun today, and I wish we could have had more time to hang out before you left. I hope you don't think it too forward of me to ask that we keep in touch._

_I'm guessing the librarian was Gertrude. She has that 'Authority Without Words' look to her. Course, that might just be a librarian thing. Out of curiosity, who is Madame Pince?_

_Take Care, Katrin_

_"I'd hate to drown. You look so awful afterwards." - Alan Aykborne_

Bill chuckled half-heartedly. _She sure is funny. Strange that she's got to leave too._ Still dwelling on the coincidence of it all, he hit reply.

* * *

"Message for you, sir!" Katrin hit her head on the inside of the cupboard she was digging through. She looked at the clock and saw that the library was probably open. Her socked feet slid on the floor as she scampered around the counter to get to her laptop.

_To: Katrin [__FireyFairey(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_From: Bill [__IndianaWeasley(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_Subject: Re: Alas and alack _

_Date: Tues, - August – 09:13:47 _

_Good morning,_

_I find it extremely coincidental that you sent that email telling me you are heading out of town. I'll be leaving later this morning as well. I received a message last night from back home. I guess my work needs me for some emergency meeting. So much for a vacation. I hope you are able to make it back next weekend for your Faire though, even if I won't be here to follow you from gig to gig. In any case, I would like to keep in touch as well. Hopefully I can find a place back home that has this Internet as well._

_The movie on the plane ride over was something called 'Indiana Jones'. I felt a little like him as I was gallivanting through the woods on Sunday. And, though I'm not an archaeologist, I did spend a great deal of time in Egypt over the past few years. I actually heard there are two other films about him!_

_Definitely a librarian thing. The one this morning gave me quite the look over. I guess I'm not dressed appropriately. :) Madame Pince was the librarian at my school. Actually, that should be is not was. She's still there... has been for ages._

_What was that quote at the end of your email for? It was really funny._

_I hope your family thing gets solved quickly and that everyone is alright._

_Bill_

Katrin smiled ruefully. _There must be something in the air for both of us to be having problems at home. Though I doubt his work emergency is anything like what I'll be dealing with. I'm so disappointed though... he's such a funny guy. Sweet too. I would have liked to get to know him more in person rather than have him become an email pen pal. _She sighed and tried to push the insecurity and disappointment away.

* * *

"Well that went completely over my head," Bill muttered to himself. He had been reading about the history of the Internet. "I wonder what the magical equivalent of this would be. If I didn't know better, I would think it is a sort of magic in itself. Muggles and their crazy ideas..." He looked at the clock and saw he'd been at the library for about an hour. _I should probably get going now. Hopefully that owl has had enough of a rest to be up for Apparating almost halfway around the world. _He logged back into the site to check his email one more time.

_To: Bill [__IndianaWeasley(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_From: Katrin [__FireyFairey(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_Subject: Re: Alas and alack _

_Date: Tues, - August – 09:39:16 _

_Hey Bill,_

_Coincidental indeed. I'm sorry your vacation is getting cut short. I hope whatever is going on gets solved quickly enough. Maybe they'll let you finish it up after. I find it so strange that you'd never been online before yesterday! I know the rest of the world isn't as connected as we are over here, but wow. Makes me think that I'm a bit dependent on the technology. -grin- My parents would have a fit if I told them that. When you get back home, you should look for an Internet Café. They aren't free like at a library, but they aren't too expensive either._

_You've never seen the other Indiana Jones movies? Wow. Just so you know, the third one is the best. Harrison Ford __and__ Sean Connery. What more could you ask for? You do kind of dress like Indy though. Except you need the hat._

_I would love to hear more about this school of yours. Your teachers sound like absolute characters. It is rare to hear about a place full of vibrant personalities. Most people around here seem to try to fit into a mold of some sort. That's what I love about Alistair's. The Aunts revel in their uniqueness, and they encourage that in everyone they meet._

_The quote is usually called a signature line. That's something that is automatically put into the body of an email. Business people will put their contact information, but I just use a quote that I change every couple of days. Keeps things from being too mundane._

_Well, I'd best finish packing. Have a safe journey home._

_Katrin_

_"I'd hate to drown. You look so awful afterwards." - Alan Aykborne_

Bill made a mental note to find out who Sean Connery was, and why he and Harrison Ford were everything to be wanted. _Hmm... If I only knew what the problem is at Gringotts. But if it has anything to do with You-Know-Who, as I suspect, there won't be a quick and easy solution..._

* * *

"Come on... come on... no not that one..." Katrin was frantically hitting some keys on her keyboard. She had almost topped her high score when her computer yelled, "MESSAGE FOR YOU, SIR!" She jumped a mile, lost the game, and quickly returned the volume to a normal level. Something she had forgotten to do earlier. She looked at the clock and realized she had been playing Snood for nearly half an hour without even thinking twice. "Oops. I was only going to play one round. They should have warned me this game is addictive." Last week, the Aunts had all emailed her the trial version within fifteen minutes of each other, each including a message that read something to the effect of "We were talking and thought you'd like this game. So here you go." She did like it, made a nice change from solitaire, but it had the potential of being a real time waster. Closing the game, she opened her email.

_To: Katrin [__FireyFairey(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_From: Bill [__IndianaWeasley(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_Subject: Re: Alas and alack _

_Date: Tues, - August -, 10:04:42_

_Hi Katrin,_

_I'm not sure about the rest of the country, but where I'm from we're not really into the whole technology thing. I'm not sure if it is because we're too steeped in tradition, because we're terrified of change, or if our way really is more efficient (ha ha). I just spent the past hour or so reading about the how the Internet got started. To be honest, I didn't understand most of it. It doesn't really matter though. Thanks for the tip on the Internet Cafés._

_The professors are definitely unique. I could probably write a book about their 'uniqueness'. I'm sure someone already has. Speaking of your Aunts, I told Nell that I'd be stopping in again before I left, but that won't happen now. Since you'll see her before I do, will you tell her I send my apologies?_

_You have a safe journey as well, to wherever home is for you. I don't know when I'll be able to check this next, but let me know that you arrived safely. :)_

_Well, I'm off to the land across the ocean. Hope I hear from you soon!_

_Cheers, Bill_

Katrin sighed as she put that one in her newly created 'Indy' folder. She looked at the clock again, then shut her computer down before returning to her bedroom to finish the packing she mentioned half an hour ago. _I had best get cracking if I want to get out of here by eleven, _she thought. _Not that I really need to pack all that much, considering we'll be in 'full regalia' most of the time. Blah._

_

* * *

_

Bill gave a final swish of his wand and all evidence of his 'campsite' was completely gone. The owl perched on a low branch in a tree gave a soft hoot of approval. Bill slung his pouch over his shoulder. "Well," he asked the owl, "I'm as ready as I'm going to get. Are you?" The owl fluttered down to a log at Bill's feet. He gently picked it up and cradled it in one arm. With a word and a popping sound, Bill and the owl disappeared.


	18. Seventeen: Arrivals

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

**Chapter Seventeen: Arrivals**

"Kati! Up here!" Katrin squinted up at the figure in the window. She had just arrived on the front steps leading up to the main doors of the castle when the voice hailed her from above. One of her brothers was leaning halfway out and waving frantically. "I'm so glad you're here. They're driving me crazy! You have got to help. What took you so long?"

"Hello to you too."

"Yeah, yeah. Get up here already. Quick, before they see you first."

"Oh, I'm doing alright, thanks for asking."

"Kati... Come ON!"

"You know, if you really want me there so quickly, the least you could do is offer to help carry my things."

"Oh, good idea. That way, I'll look busy. I'll be right down." He disappeared inside. Katrin chuckled and shook her head as she walked up the steps. The guards at the doors jumped to attention and saluted, then moved to open the massive wooden doors for her. Before they could, however, the doors swung open to reveal the Queen of the Goblins. "Good morning, Kati," she said with a smile. "How was your journey?"

"Uneventful, as usual," Katrin replied. She set her things down inside the entry and gave her mother a hug. "So, who is driving Andreas crazy?"

Sarah laughed. "Probably your father and I. I think he thinks he has better things to do than help us prepare for receiving a formal delegation. We keep pulling him in different directions as well, which isn't helping. And to top it all off, we've put off explaining all the details until you arrived. It will be less complicated to tell you all at once, rather than separately."

Katrin nodded. "That makes sense to me. When-" She was cut off by the sound of someone pounding down the stairs and calling her name.

"Hey Kati! Where are your things? I'll help you take them to your room. But we have to be quick or else Mother or Father will see us. They're both in ripe moods and they'll-" he stopped short at the sight of his mother standing next to his older sister.

"And what, exactly, will we do, Andreas?" Katrin stifled her chuckle at the tone of amusement in their mother's voice that would likely be missed by her brother, as well as the sight of their father coming down the steps behind him.

"Uh... hi Mother. I was just going to help Kati take her things upstairs." He dashed forward and picked up one bag. "So... um... I'll just be going now." Andreas backed up two steps before wheeling around and running straight into his father. "Oof."

"Do be careful, Andreas," Jareth said as he grabbed his son to prevent him from falling backwards. "When you are done helping Katrin, come down to the dining room for luncheon and a family meeting. If you see any of your brothers, tell them to come down as well." He clasped Andreas on the shoulder, then walked over to Katrin as Andreas scampered up the stairs. "Hello, Kati. Did you have any problems returning Underground?"

She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. "None beyond the usual problem I have of getting all of my things here with me. I know I should not bring so much, but I hate being without my instruments." She reached down and picked up the rest of her things. "I'll just dump these in my room then make sure Andreas is not having any difficulties remembering what he is supposed to do next." Her parents laughed at that. "Unless I need to change clothes for this luncheon?"

Sarah shook her head. "It is just family until tomorrow. Wear whatever you want. And there is no hurry. You just got back, you don't need to be rushing all over the place."

"Yet," Jareth added. Sarah smacked him on the arm and Katrin grinned.

"Okie dokie. See you in a bit." With that, Katrin dashed up the stairs after her brother.

"Okie dokie?" Jareth raised an eyebrow at his daughter's retreating form as he offered an arm to his queen. "She does bring home the strangest terms. Whose idea was it that she spend so much time Aboveground?"

Sarah smiled lovingly at her husband as she took his arm. "Yours."

"Really. What was I thinking?"

She grinned. "I really cannot say."

He gave her a sharp look. "Does something amuse you, Sarah?"

"Only you, Goblin King."

"Really. Perhaps it is time for you to visit an Oubliette."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I?" He flashed her a devastatingly wicked smile. "And what makes you say that?"

She responded with a wicked smile of her own. "Because, dearest, without me around you would have to deal with the boys and the delegation all on your own while I would get a quiet place for a long nap."

His rich laughter echoed through the foyer as he led her towards a doorway on the left. "That is most cruel of you, but well sallied. Come, my love. Let us away to the dining room, lest our sons get there before us and devour everything in sight."

* * *

Bill appeared in the front room of his family's home. He wandered over to the perch by the fireplace and set the owl on it. "You hang out there for a bit. I'm going to see if anyone is home and say hello, then I'll write a note to Charlie and send you off to him before I leave for Gringotts. That should give you more time before you go to sleep, if you want. I'll tell him to give you a day off or something since you've been traveling so much lately. How does that sound?" The owl fluffed its feathers and blinked at him, so Bill scratched it on the head and went in search of his family.

Bill had Apparated to the porch of his family's home. He had considered going straight inside, but figured he would probably scare his mother if she was in the room. It was early in the evening, the sun was low in the sky though it hadn't quite begun to set yet. _I had almost forgotten about the whole time zone difference thing. _He wandered into the dining room to find his father sitting at the table drinking tea and reading The Daily Prophet. Bill sat down next to him. "Hi, Dad."

Arthur Weasley jumped at the sound of his eldest son's voice and spilled his tea. "Bill! What are you doing back so soon? Those goblins didn't find you, did they?" he asked as he mopped up his tea with a flick of his wand.

"Not exactly. I guess after they talked to you and Mum, they hunted down Charlie and tried to get information from him. Don't worry, they didn't do anything to him. Even if they were planning to, I would think that even goblins would be hard pressed to try anything what with all those dragons hanging about. He sent me an owl on their behalf. There's some meeting tonight at half nine that they want me to attend. I'm not entirely sure why; I'm not anyone important within the bank."

"Well, I'm sure you're one of their best Curse Breakers."

Bill laughed and shook his head. "Oh, come off it, Dad. You're supposed to say that because you're family."

"Alright, alright, suit yourself. But you didn't come out of Hogwarts top of the class for nothing." He picked the teapot up off the table. "Tea?"

"Please."

Arthur picked up his wand from where it lay on the table. "_Accio_, teacup!" A spare teacup came flying out of the china cabinet and over Bill's shoulder into his father's hand. He poured them some tea and they sat in silence for a few moments.

"So where is everyone?" Bill asked.

"Your mother is out in the garden with Ginny. Fred, George, and Ron mentioned something about practicing Quidditch in the grove. Percy is upstairs doing... well, whatever it is Percy does these days. I do worry about him sometimes. He's been taking everything that is going on at the Ministry a bit hard. I believe he has been a bit disillusioned."

"I can imagine. What is the status these days?"

"Same as before, really. Everyone is tiptoeing around everyone else but pretending nothing is wrong. I'm doing more weeding out allies to our side than anything else. I managed to get out in time for dinner tonight, which is something of a wonder. Speaking of which, have you eaten?"

"No, but I'm not hungry. I don't have much of an appetite at the moment. I'm more concerned with what is going to happen tonight than anything else."

"Any idea what it is about?"

"No, all I know is that it is 'highly confidential'. But I wouldn't be surprised if it had _something_ to do with You-Know-Who. I couldn't say for sure, though."

"Hm... You probably shouldn't leave again without telling your mother that you're here. Although, she may fret so much over you that you will end up being late. She's always worrying about something. When that 'representative' from Gringotts showed up, it had her quite concerned." He shook his head.

Bill leaned back in his chair. "I believe it. I'm going to write a quick note to Charlie to let him know I got here, and then I want to get washed up and change clothes before I head out. It shouldn't take too long, so I'll go talk to her when I'm done. Would you mind giving her fair warning for me?"

"Not at all."

"Brilliant." Bill drank the last of his tea and got up. When he got to the doorway, he turned around. "Hey, Dad... There's actually something I want to talk to you about later. I don't want you to have to wait up tonight, but do you think we could sit down for a chat when I get back, or if it is too late tonight then tomorrow when you get off work?"

"Of course. Is something wrong?"

Bill shook his head. "No, not particularly. It's just... well, it's complicated."

"Complicated. Never a good sign." Arthur chuckled. "Just come find me when you get back. If she asks, I'll tell your mother I want to hear all about the American Muggles."

Bill laughed. "You probably want to hear all about them anyway, Dad. I'll talk to you later." He disappeared through the door.

Arthur listened to him run up the stairs, then finished the rest of his tea before getting up as well. "I suppose I had best go announce your presence to the rest of the house," he told the ceiling as he left the room. "Complicated... I wonder..."


	19. Eighteen: Meetings and Explanations

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

**Chapter Eighteen: Meetings and Explanations**

Katrin closed her small connection Aboveground after the email went through. _I cannot believe I just did that. But he _did_ ask me to let him know I got here..._ Although she could run any electrical appliances, such as her laptop, on battery, the only way she could connect to the Internet was to open a hole from the Underground to Aboveground and then pick up the connection with the airport card and hub. It was similar to the connection made when she would 'call' home using one of the crystals, except it was digital waves going through rather than magical ones. As she kicked off her shoes and searched under the bed for her slippers, she wondered what, if anything, her father would say to her about doing that before she went down for lunch with the family. He would know, of course. As ruler of this kingdom, he was perfectly attuned to everything that went on magically within its borders, including the opening of any 'holes'. And anything non-magical was as close as a glance in a crystal. After sliding into the slippers, she pulled off her sweater and tied it around her waist as she left her room.

* * *

"Mum, I'll find something to eat when I get back. I'm really not hungry now, honest." Bill was pulling on his wizard robe as he tried to stop his mother from cooking him a full meal.

"Well, if you are sure you don't want anything now." She leaned over and brushed some non-existent lint off his robe. "Are you sure that is what you should be wearing underneath? It seems a bit casual."

Bill sighed. "Yes, I'm sure. And they really don't care what I wear as long as I do my job. If they wanted me in something different, I'm sure I would have been told. It isn't as though they would have any qualms about it."

"Well, alright then. But-"

"Molly, let the boy go. He is going to be late if he doesn't get out of here soon." Arthur gestured toward the clock.

"Goodness, yes. Get along with you, Bill. I'll have something is ready for you to eat when you get back."

"Thanks, Mum." He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, then took his bag that was being held by his sister and ruffled her hair. "Later, Ginny. I'll see you tonight, Dad." With that, he Apparated out of the house.

* * *

"Nice of you to join us, Katrin," Jareth said with a wry grin. "Have some difficulties finding the dining room?"

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Mother said there was no hurry. Besides, the boys aren't here yet. And before you ask, I did remind Andreas to go get them." She went over to the sideboard and filled a plate before joining her parents at the table. Just before she sat down, the door burst open behind her.

"Kati!" Six-year-old Lewis latched himself to her waist. "You're home! When did you get here? Do you want to play with me later?"

"We'll see, ok? First, let's have lunch." Turning around, she saw the rest of her family coming in the door. "Hi, boys." Andreas and Justin waved as they made a beeline for the food.

"You know, considering I am almost three years older than you, it really irks that you group me with our younger siblings, little sister." Christopher came over and gave her a hug, transferring the baby of the family, Michael, into her arms.

Katrin grinned. "Oh, wah. You know you like it."

"Yeah, sure." He tried, and failed, to hide his grin as he went over to the sideboard. "Come on, Lewis, what do you want to eat?"

"Lots! So I can grow big!"

"Big like whom?" Christopher asked him.

"Um... like Ludo." Everyone chuckled. "Well, he is the biggest person I know!"

As they ate, Katrin entertained them all with tales of the antics of a juggler who played almost the same Faire circuit as she. When they finished, Jareth gave the unspoken command and three goblins came in and cleared the table and sideboard. A fourth and fifth brought in trays with tea, coffee, juice, and milk. It did not take long before they were alone again and settling with their various drinks. Katrin leaned back in her chair and looked around at her family. Andreas was animatedly describing something to Christopher and their father, Justin was helping Lewis pour himself a glass of milk, and her mother had Michael on her lap and seemed to be doing at least five things at once. She smiled, getting the feeling of love and security that only comes with being at home. However, she could not prevent the thoughts of her lunch of the previous day, and with those thoughts came this slight feeling of longing. Not really sure what it meant, she tried to push it away until she was in a better place to contemplate it.

Jareth looked at his daughter, noticing how she absentmindedly stirred her tea as she gazed intently at the teapot. The wistful smile in her eyes seemed to be playing tag with a light cloud of confusion, each chasing the other away in turn. He had a feeling that he knew what, or more precisely _who_, was on her mind, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of loss and regret. Unfortunately, he knew he could not dwell on it at the moment, for tomorrow was creeping up on them. He looked around the table at the rest of his children, his gaze finally settling on Sarah where she sat across from him with their youngest on her lap. She was watching him with a mysterious smile on her face. He raised an eyebrow. Her smile deepened. He sighed, not quite sure how to disturb this picture of 'domestic bliss' that he wanted to hang on to forever, but feeling that things would never be quite the same after tomorrow.

"Love," Sarah's soft voice pulled him out of his reverie. "We should explain to the children what is going to happen tomorrow," she said gently. "I need to put some people down for their naps soon."

Jareth sighed again. "Yes, of course. You all know the basics. There is a delegation of goblins arriving tomorrow from Aboveground with a request for advice, possibly even to petition for assistance. As I have said before, I don't know what all the details are, but I do know something of the situation that has been happening over the past few years. I also need to explain about the other Realm within the Mortal World."

Christopher choked on his coffee. "_Other_ Realm?"

Jareth held up one hand. "In answer to your question, no, you have not been told of this before. It is a very testy subject among the Fae who know about it. Among other reasons, certain members of our kind might be tempted to take advantage of... some of the more powerful inhabitants of this Realm should that power become common knowledge." He paused.

"But why didn't you tell _us_?" Christopher asked, bewildered.

_Exactly what I've been wondering since you mentioned this last night, Dad, _thought Katrin.

"To be honest, it never occurred to me that I should. Most of the Underground has not had to deal with it for hundreds of years. With a few exceptions, of course. One of those being the goblins and their bank."

Katrin interrupted him. "Dad, you're not making much sense. I don't understand how goblins could possibly run a bank. I know you said they are a different breed, but still. _Goblins?_ Running a _bank?_"

He blinked. "Perhaps I had best start at the beginning." The simultaneous nods from his wife and four older children made him chuckle. "Very well..."

* * *

Bill Apparated in front of Gringotts. The protective magic there was similar in that respect to that of Hogwarts for no one could Apparate inside the building. Although, there were other protective forces at work that few wizards, if any, seemed to know about. Diagon Alley was fairly deserted at this time of night. Granted, there were the odd shops open here and there, just not many customers. Bill wasn't entirely sure if he would be able to just walk into the bank, considering it was supposed to be closed. However, he figured if the doors were not unlocked, someone would be there to open them for him. He was, after all, expected.

He ran up the steps to the doors and they silently opened before him. _Just like those automated ones the Muggles use,_ he thought. Bill's steps echoed through the nearly empty hall as he walked toward the main desk. He could see three goblins gathered there, looking through a large tome. One looked up as Bill neared them.

"Ah, Mr. Weasley. Punctual as always, I see," he said, extending his hand.

"Sir." Bill shook the hand of the goblin he had never met, wondering what else was known about him and how this reputation had spread.

The goblin cleared his throat and the other two looked up from the tome. "I will take Mr. Weasley to the second floor board room for the meeting." They looked Bill over, then nodded to the first goblin. "If you discover anything else, let me know immediately. This way, Mr. Weasley."

Bill followed the goblin through a door that seemed to spring out of the wall, up a long staircase, and into a small room with a massive oak table. Around the table sat two more goblins and two empty chairs. _Am I going to be the only human here? Now there is a disturbing thought..._ The goblin who escorted him to the room gestured to one of the empty chairs, so Bill sat down.

The goblin stood in front of the final chair and placed his hands on the table. "Allow me to make the introductions. This is Mr. Weasley, one of our Curse Breakers." He turned to Bill as he gestured around the table. "On the far left is Queezink, next to him is Crinklow, and I am Frank." _Frank?_ Bill thought. "Now that we are all here," Frank continued, "shall we begin?" At the nods from the other goblins, he turned to Bill once more as he sat down. "I am sure you would like to know what this meeting is in regards to. Especially since we had to call you back from you holiday."

Bill nodded. "Yes, sir, I have been wondering."

"You may have guessed that it has something to do with the return of the Dark Wizard. This is only partially true. His return has indeed given us cause for concern for we remember the financial panic his presence caused within the Magical Realm of the Mortal World many years ago. But there are certain preventative measures we can take and, no matter what, Gringotts will remain standing. So, his return would not be a concern of high priority, except for one minor detail."

At this, Crinklow leaned forward with his elbows on the table, bringing his hands up and pressing his fingertips together. "I am sure you remember when there was an attempt at a break-in nearly four years ago. The perpetrator attempted to remove the Philosopher's Stone from one of our most well protected vaults. While thefts have foolishly been attempted before, no one had come so close to succeeding and still escaped."

"While this was most disturbing, " added Queezink, "what is even more so is that it has taken us until recently to discover how he managed it. Much to our chagrin, it was discovered that some of our employees had betrayed the secret of our security system to the man who broke in. They have since been questioned, revealing all the details, and will soon be punished appropriately." An unnerving smile crossed the goblin's face.

"However," continued Frank," while the perpetrator is no longer among the living, there is no way of knowing whether or not he passed on his knowledge to the Dark Wizard. Because of this, we will be sending a delegation to the one who allows this Institution to exist."

Silence fell over the room. Bill was somewhat confused as to what, exactly, the goblins were talking about. He looked at each of them. They were all looking at him. He cleared his throat. "So... am I supposed to be a member of this delegation?"

Crinklow leaned back in his chair. "No, Mr. Weasley. We have another task for you."

Silence fell again. Bill looked at each of the goblins again. They were all still looking at him. "Alright... What is the task?"

"Tomorrow morning, our delegation will be meeting with the King of the Goblins. When they return at the end of the week, you will be following in the footsteps of the one who attempted the break-in. If our petition to His Majesty is unsuccessful, you will have to make the journey alone."

Bill blinked. "And if it is successful?"

Queezink shrugged. "Then you will be accompanied by a member of the Immortal Ones."

_A what? _Bill barely prevented himself from flying out of his chair. _He did not just say what I think he did. They don't exist. And even if they _did_ exist, that was long ago. There haven't even been rumors of one being seen for at least half a millennium. _"I'm sorry, could you repeat that last bit?"

"Then you will be accompanied by a member of the Immortal Ones."

It was too much for Bill. He stood up, immediately sitting down again. _I don't believe it..._


	20. Nineteen: A Different Kind of Goblin

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

**Chapter Nineteen: A Different Kind of Goblin**

"As I am sure you are all aware," began Jareth, "part of the role of the Goblin King is to take Mortal children who have been wished away and, if the person who made the wish does not complete the Labyrinth in time, turn that child into a Goblin."

"Like you did with Mother and Uncle Toby," said Lewis.

Jareth smiled at his son. "Yes, exactly."

"But you said that was only a game," put in Andreas. "That using the Labyrinth is more of a way to teach the Mortal who makes the wish a lesson about being careful to say what is meant."

"Ah," Jareth waved one finger, "I said that is what it is _now_. Long ago, before I was even born, that wasn't the case. Until recently, the Fae had a much more prevalent role in the Mortal World. They would walk among the Mortals freely, play tricks, give gifts, that sort of thing. Some would even steal children for whatever reasons they had without giving it a second thought. The previous Goblin Kings fell under that category, having no qualms about taking children on a whim. Nor did they have qualms about turning them into Goblins."

Jareth's family sat there digesting that bit of information for a moment. "Even I didn't know that," Sarah said, her eyes wide.

"It was a long time ago, my love," he said softly, meeting her eyes. "You know I would never have done such a thing." She nodded. Christopher and Katrin exchanged a poignant glance. They, along with their father, were the only ones who knew that their mother still carried a burden of guilt for what she had done all those years ago.

"When did it change? Why did it change?" asked Justin slowly as he looked back and forth at his parents and eldest siblings, feeling the sudden weight that had settled over them. Catching Katrin's eye, he asked her what was going on with a look. She raised an eyebrow and shook her head slightly in response.

"The rules changed shortly before I came to power," answered Jareth. "My father was constantly at me to accept duties as the Heir. But even then, spoiled as I was, I did not want to have that particular 'duty' of increasing the Goblin population. He, as most of his ancestors, took sadistic pleasure in watching Mortals struggle against all odds. That was why the Labyrinth was created. The idea of it being there to give the Mortals a chance was rubbish, a formal loophole to please other members of the High Court should questions arise. But in those days, no one asked questions. The excuse was made that too many other things were going on, which suited the Goblin Kings just fine. In any case, no Mortal ever survived the Labyrinth then.

"So there we were, my father happily destroying lives and myself happily avoiding anything to do with responsibility of any sort. He couldn't understand why I refused to join him, and grew more frustrated and angry as the years passed. I could not understand what the issue was and spent a good deal of time trying to be disinherited. When he realized what I was doing, that was the last straw. I was his son, he was the King, and he would be damned if he would allow me to subvert his will. Thus, he went to the High King and Queen, appealing for their intercession, requesting that they force me to accept my role. They could very well have done exactly as he asked, as their granting his request would put him in debt to them. Had all of this come to pass even a mere fifty years earlier, things might have ended up quite differently.

"As it happened, there was something going on that worked highly in my favor. It was about this time that Their Majesties were pushing to withdraw almost completely from the Mortal World. The Fae as a people had been withdrawing Underground more and more anyway as hostility and violence toward any of our kind grew. Their Majesties felt it was best to allow the Mortals to forget, allow existence of the Fae to become legend. It would be safer for their people.

"Not everyone was in agreement, of course. My father was rather vocal among those against this decision. He wanted to remain in a position wherein he could still torment and manipulate Mortals. However, his dislike of the plan to withdraw was outweighed by his need for an heir. Unfortunately for him, I was his only option, so he had no choice but to appeal to Their Majesties for assistance. Their Majesties wanted his support, and knew that they could not demand he cease the activity with the Labyrinth. Were they to do so, there was a chance that he would make attempts to usurp their position.

"After many long discussions, it was agreed that they would convince me to be more 'complacent.' In return, they would continue to allow the Goblin King to steal Mortal children, but only when wished away. My father thought he got the better half of the deal and signed the agreement, not realizing that they had put in a stipulation that the children stolen would neither be kept nor turned into Goblins regardless of whether or not the Mortal completed the Labyrinth. Plus, the Mortal would return home as well, wiser for the lesson learnt, but thinking it was all some strange dream.

"As far as I was concerned, this wasn't much better. When crowned, I would still have to deal with the bother of these children who were wished away. However, my father was livid. He felt he had been tricked. In truth, he probably was. There is speculation that he was secretly plotting against Their Majesties in revenge, but no proof has been revealed to that effect. In any case, whatever revenge he had in mind was put to rest when he was killed in that Great Battle.

"So there I was, reluctant King of the Goblins. And at the time, the story of the Goblin King was a popular one used to scare younger children, though I doubt many Mortals truly believed it. Unfortunately, whether or not they did believe it did not matter. If they said 'I wish,' they said 'I wish'. So there was still quite the flow of Mortal children being sent Underground. I believe Their Majesties knew this would happen during my father's reign, but thought that when I came to power I would simply command the Goblins to not take any more children and the Fae could finally disappear.

"They never had dealt closely with Goblins before, however. Goblins are quite stupid. They mean well enough and are oh-so-willing to please, but lack the ability to wrap their little brains around the idea that they did not have to take every child that was wished away casually. It is not as though they are magically bound. I finally convinced them to do so only when they heard The Words. Eventually, as science and technology advanced and magic was 'proven' to not exist, the story of the Goblin King pretty much died out for a few hundred years. That is, of course, until some idiot during the time known as the English Regency Era heard of the story and published it. Though it did not have The Words as such, when the Goblins heard it being read aloud, they would whisper The Words in the ears of those who wanted to hear them. I did what I could to eradicate any written copy of the story that could be found. It was a challenge, but not entirely difficult. And it worked, for the most part. Any copies that leaked through were not read aloud by those who wanted to wish children away, and those copies were soon lost as well. I had a few blissful centuries of peace, and Their Majesties did not have to worry about the constant flow of Mortals into the Underground that could reveal the Fae's secret existence. Well, until Sarah wished away Toby, but that was-"

"Absolutely necessary?" Katrin interjected with a smirk.

Jareth glared at his daughter good-naturedly. "I was going to say an extenuating circumstance."

"Wow..." Lewis seemed fascinated. "So Mortal children were really turned into Goblins?"

"Yes, Lewis."

"And now they run a bank?"

Jareth chuckled. "Yes."

"Wow... So Mother wa-"

"Wait, wait, wait." Christopher held up his hand to stop the conversation in a gesture that Katrin amusedly found to be very similar to their father's. "I understand that the Mortal children are now Goblins. But as Katrin said earlier, how could Goblins possibly run a bank? Especially since they couldn't, how did you put it, 'wrap their little brains around the idea that they did not have to take every child'?"

"Ah ha... You are assuming exactly what every other Fae has assumed for hundreds of years, and possibly what the Mortals who have seen the Goblins here have assumed as well."

Christopher waved his arms in a huge shrug. "And that is?"

Katrin's eyes widened. "Oh... I get it now."

"Get what?" asked Christopher.

"That's amazing..."

"What is?"

"And now they are almost independent..."

"Who?" Katrin did not answer as she was staring intently at the teapot again. Jareth quirked an eyebrow and looked at Sarah. She seemed to have relaxed a bit and grinned back at him. Christopher looked back and forth at his parents and sister. "You people drive me crazy."

"Now you know how I've felt the past few days," Andreas muttered.

Christopher snorted. "Hello... Earth to Katrin." She looked at him. "What do you get? What is so amazing? Who is independent?" He turned to his father. "Dad, what is she talking about?"

Katrin rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Chris. It isn't that difficult. The Mortal children were turned into Goblins in form only. They retained their intelligence and, I would guess, their personalities. Now they're off in some other Realm of the Mortal World running some bank. Right Dad?"

"That is putting it very simply, but essentially, yes."

A resounding, "Ohhhh..." came from Christopher, Andreas, and Justin. After a moment, everyone burst out laughing. When they all calmed down, Sarah stood up. Everyone turned to her.

"Now it is time for Michael's nap. You too, Lewis."

"Aw, Mom..."

"No arguments. Come along." She ushered him out the door before her then looked over her shoulder. "There is one thing you have yet to explain to them, dear," she said softly. "The Magical Realm." With that, she left the room and four pairs of eyes turned back to Jareth.

"Ah yes." He leaned back in his chair again. "Lewis is still too young to hear about all the details of this yet. One never knows what he will say to anyone, but I can trust that you will be discreet. Although, if things play out in a certain way, that might not matter much any more. Of course, technically I am not supposed to tell any of you yet either." He paused to pour himself another cup of tea, brow furrowed as he stirred in the milk and sugar. His children exchanged glances, but waited patiently for him to continue.

"The existence of the Magical Realm of the Mortal World is one of the High Court's best kept secrets. Apparently, those who belong to this Realm do a fair job of keeping themselves secret from the rest of the Mortals as well. I am not entirely certain how or when it came into being, but at some point along the line, some Mortals came to possess certain powers. Some are strong, others are not, and the powers can lie in various 'types.' Their way of life is very different from the Mortals we are most familiar with. The foremost difference is that these Mortals are as dependent on their magic as the other Mortals are dependent on their science and technology. I have a feeling this is the reason they are secret even among their own kind. Such powers would be just as feared and hated as ours would be.

"In this Realm, the existence of magical beings is accepted, to a point. Dragons, dwarves, giants, imps, gnomes. All sorts. Except, oddly, for the Fae. This is due to our withdrawal from the Mortal World. Their Majesties deemed it should be a complete withdrawal. We exist in legend, in dreams. For those of the Magical Realm, we existed in history. And even that existence is questioned. In turn, the Magical Realm is not spoken of among the Fae. Its existence has become legend among those of our people who know anything about it, if anything at all. There are still some members of the High Court who survived the Great Battle who know it does, in fact, exist. But there is an unspoken agreement to not make a production of the Magical Realm. Some of these Mortals are very powerful, indeed. But they are still only Mortals, and as such could be taken advantage of by the more dark and sinister members of our kind. Or possibly destroyed by those Fae who are less powerful and, subsequently, more afraid.

"The only reason I know about it is because of my Goblins. Or, rather, my other kind of Goblins. As Goblins, they are my subjects. But even before my time, they did not fit in with the other Goblins in this Kingdom. They were too intelligent, for they are like humans in that respect as you suggested, Katrin. But in becoming Goblins, they were changed not just in appearance. They became cruel, harsh, and hard. It is rumors of what these Goblins have done that prompts people to avoid crossing Goblins in general. Those who have come in contact with the Goblins here see them as being too incompetent to be capable of much on their own. But those rumors, those stories of Goblin cruelty still resonate and it is seen better to err on the side of caution for they assume the orders must have come from somewhere.

"However, we were left with two kinds of Goblins: those we know and love, begrudgingly at times, and those who are as intelligent as we but rumored to be guilty of terrifying cruelty. The previous Goblin Kings would use them in the Labyrinth to torment the Mortals lost there. I put a stop to that, but I then had a dilemma of what to do with them. Their rumored cruelty prevented them from being accepted in other Kingdoms so, though they were intelligent enough, they were not suitable for being used for diplomats. I was at something of a loss. Then someone, somewhere, suggested that they be sent to the Magical Realm. To make a long story short, this different kind of Goblin adapted an institution begun by normal Mortals for the Magical Realm: the bank.

"It ended up being the perfect solution. The Goblins are quite the pragmatic moneylenders. Known as Gringotts, the main building is located in a Magical part of London. Gringotts stores the riches of the Mortals of the Magical Realm. It also works as a sort of business itself. They have people who hunt up treasure, and deal with investments and interest and all that sort of thing. As the Goblin King, I get a cut, though I do not need it. As it is, I prefer to refer to it as 'rent' instead."

"Rent? Why?" asked Justin.

"Because of the way they have set up their Vault System. The Mortals believe the Vaults are deep in the ground under London. In truth, the Vaults are deep Underground."

"Oh, that complicates things a bit," Christopher said.

"Indeed. And since Gringotts was established before the Fae 'disappeared' completely, Their Majesties decided that it was senseless to stop it since it gave the other kind of Goblins a place and a purpose. So Gringotts continued to stand and do business. They have been on their own for quite a long time now. I receive a copy of all the records annually, though I am not sure why I need them, as well as regular correspondence regarding current events. There are the odd situations that I need to be kept aware of, but the Goblins take care of everything themselves. After everything was set up, they have not needed my direct assistance in anything."

"Until now," Katrin said.

"Yes, until now," Jareth repeated. "And tomorrow morning, their delegation will arrive."

"What are they going to ask for?" Andreas asked.

"That I do not know. And I wish I did." Silence fell over the room as they each fell into their own thoughts.


	21. Twenty: This Is Your Task

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

**Chapter Twenty: This Is Your Task**

"You understand, Mr. Weasley, that what is said in this room is not to be taken out of it," Frank leaned forward and peered at Bill.

"Yes, of course," Bill replied, his mind still reeling from the last comment. _Immortal Ones? The Fae?_

"Excellent." Frank leaned back once more. "You have been chosen for this task for a few reasons. When you first began here at Gringotts, you came highly recommended. Since then, you have proven your skills numerous times. In fact, you are one of our most able and qualified employees."

Bill was stunned. _I guess Dad was right._ "Thank you, sir."

Frank waved his hand as if in dismissal of the issue. "Yes, of course. It has also become evident how completely loyal you are to your family. In addition, it has been revealed that you are devoted to that in which you believe, willing to put yourself on the line for the sake of what you believe is right."

Queezink nodded. "These are very noble and admirable traits. They, and the others you possess, set you apart from those who equal you in magical abilities within this Institution. There are those who would not be so ready or willing."

"Indeed," interrupted Crinklow, "we are aware that you may not agree to the task we are setting before you without an explanation. In any case, it would not be wise to enter into it blindly. There are some... Secrets you will know, some of which are necessary to understand before you can accept the task. Others, you will discover along the way. Your dedication, loyalty, devotion, and trustworthiness made you the best choice, for we feel that we can inform you of them without much fear of betrayal." The three Goblins fell silent, intently watching Bill as though they expected him to say something.

Bill looked at each of them and took a deep breath. After a minute, he rubbed one hand over his forehead. "So... what you are basically telling me is that because of my skills as a Wizard and the fact that I am the least likely candidate of all your employees to tell everything I hear to The Daily Prophet, I have been chosen to go on a quest following the four-year-old footsteps of a man who attempted to steal something from the bank, possibly in the company of someone who belongs to a people that I have been told no longer exists? And, before I can accept, you have to tell me things that no Wizard has been told before? But before you can tell me, I have to accept the fact that I am the only man for the job?" They all nodded. Bill fought down the urge he had to panic. _No pressure or anything. _He rubbed his forehead again.

There was silence for another minute. "Well?" asked Frank. The goblins were starting to look concerned, which of course meant they were starting to look even more intimidating.

Bill sighed. "I just have one question." Frank nodded. "Is all this going to make sense after you are done explaining everything?"

Frank blinked and exchanged looks with Queezink and Crinklow. "Well... perhaps when it is all over. But what we will tell you should make things more clear."

Bill slumped into his chair._ Do I really have much choice on the issue? _He sighed again. "Alright, let me have it."

Crinklow leaned forward. "And do you swear to not reveal what you hear to any of your kind unless given permission?"

He swallowed hard. "I swear it." There was a loud BANG! and a flash of light and he felt magic coursing through him. Bill realized that he was gripping the arms of his chair so hard that his knuckles were white. "Um... what was that?" he asked as he pried his fingers up.

Queezink shrugged. "Just a precaution. Until the King of the Goblins chooses to release you, you are bound magically to not speak of what you shall hear. Should you attempt to break your word..." He grinned a nasty grin. "Well, let's just say it will not be nice."

Bill could not stop his half-grin. _So much for being trusted by Goblins._ "Right." Bill chuckled and shook his head. "Shall we continue, then?"

Crinklow nodded and opened a leather pouch that was laying on the table. He pulled out a folded piece of paper and placed it in front of him, folding his hands upon it. "You mentioned having been told that the Immortal Ones no longer exist. Your shock at our telling you that your task might include traveling with one of them indicates that you firmly believe this story. While this does well in falling in line with their wish to remain secret, I suggest you place that erroneous notion out of your mind."

"The Immortal Ones do exist, Mr. Weasley," put in Frank. "The idea that they could cease to do so is a ridiculous one at best. But, many years ago, they wished for it to become common thought among your kind that this is just what had happened. Times were becoming dangerous for those dealing with magic, something of which those of your kind who wield it are well aware. For their own protection, they slowly withdrew from this world, hiding themselves away. This was about the same time that the magic wielders of your kind began hiding their existence as well. However, the Immortal Ones believed that, though you may have had sympathies with them, the fact remained that you are Mortal, and human at that. It was thought to be best for even you to think they had disappeared. So it has been for hundreds of years. The Immortal Ones have lived in silence, disconnected from the Mortal World."

"That is," picked up Crinklow, "with a few minor exceptions." At this, he unfolded the piece of paper and slid it across the table to Bill. It was yellowed and stiff with age, covered in shifting geometric shapes. Some were intersected and connected by lines. There were various glyphs marking the page, but in a style Bill had never seen. He looked expectantly at Crinklow. "That is a simplified diagram of all the worlds and realms existing alongside each other, as well as the places where they have permanent connections."

Queezink leaned over and pointed at one circle. At his touch, it began to glow a vibrant emerald green. "That represents the Mortal World. This," he pointed to a faint, golden, pulsating circle within the first, "is the Magical Realm, existing completely within the bounds of the Mortal World. Though connected at all times, completely in sync with its parent world, only those who are aware of its existence can see it. To create this Realm was a fairly complicated bit of magic. One misstep and the Balance would have been completely upset. As fate would have it, it compliments its parent world perfectly."

He pointed at a nondescript shape and it began to glow gold with faint, silver threads swirling about within its boundaries. "That represents the Underground, the land of the Fae. There are many Realms within the Underground, though they are commonly referred to as Kingdoms." He dragged his finger from a point in the Underground to a point in the Magical Realm. One of the swirling silver threads followed his finger until it affixed itself to the Magical Realm. As it straightened out, it solidified. "That represents a connection between the Underground and the Magical Realm. It begins deep within the Kingdom of the Goblins, and ends beneath this very building."

Bill studied at the diagram for a moment longer, then leaned back in his chair once again. "Kingdom of the Goblins?"

Frank nodded. "The Goblins, though gifted with longevity, are not members of the race of the Immortal Ones," he said, answering Bill's unspoken question. "We are, however, subject to them. Or, at least, to one of them. For the King of the Goblins is no Goblin at all. And it is through his will alone that we are able to use the Underground as a place to store our Vaults. There are many spells and enchantments which guard the bank and the entrance to the path to the Vaults. However, the best protection remains the Underground itself."

"You see, Mr. Weasley," said Queezink, "were someone to attempt to enter or traverse any part of the Underground without a proper guide or permission, he would quickly find himself confronted by all manner of curious creatures, many of whom would be sent from their rulers, and many of whom would be quite hostile. Some Kingdoms and their rulers would naturally be kinder than others. The Kingdom of the Goblins is not known for such kindness, nor is its King. Both can be harsh and unforgiving, with little patience for unwelcome guests. The spells and enchantments we have placed are, in some ways, more for the protection of would be thieves than for the items secured within the vaults. We would prefer to have them alive and in their right minds upon apprehension."

Bill pondered that for a moment before realizing something. "So the only reason Quirrell escaped when he attempted to steal the Philosopher's Stone was because he had a guide in the Underground?"

"Not exactly," answered Crinklow. "He was given a map, of sorts, by one of our employees, and another opened the door to the Underground for him. A discovery we were most displeased to make. We had assumed that he did have a guide until our investigation revealed otherwise. He appears to have managed on his own. He would have had to be a most powerful Wizard to get as far as he did and then escape again, which is why we are concerned he had assistance from the Dark Wizard. Though whether he escaped with his sanity is another question entirely."

"I would wager he was already on his way to losing it before he made the attempt," Bill mused.

Queezink smiled. "True. In any case, are things more clear?"

"Yes, I think - wait," he cut himself off. The three Goblins looked at him. "You said I only get a guide if the delegation is successful, and if it isn't then I go alone. But what if he refuses to grant permission for me to take this journey through his Kingdom? And, for that matter, why couldn't one of you be this guide?"

The Goblins looked at him with blank expressions, then exchanged glances. Bill began to get concerned that he had overstepped his bounds. "Well," began Frank, "it actually never occurred to us that he might refuse to allow you access. I doubt that will be a problem, however. As for why a Goblin cannot accompany you..." he trailed off and looked to the others. They seemed to shift uncomfortably in their seats and refused to meet Frank's eyes. _What is this all about? _wondered Bill.

"One of us cannot accompany you because," Crinklow paused in his explanation as though searching for the right words. "Because we are not... looked on with favor by the other inhabitants of the Underground."

Bill blinked. "Not looked on with favor? Even in the Kingdom of the Goblins?"

"Yes, well, our kind are not the only type of Goblins."

_The Fae exist and there are other types of Goblins. What next?_ "Oh," Bill said. "Well then, now that I know something of the background of the situation, is there anything I need to know to prepare for my journey? What exactly will I be looking for?"

The Goblins seemed relieved that he was not going to push the matter of their disfavor any further. Queezink spoke up, "You will be given a copy of what this Quirrell was given prior to his venture Underground. We need to know if it would be possible for a skilled Wizard to duplicate his journey without the assistance of the Dark Wizard. We ask that you simply get as far as you can, making a detailed record of what you encounter. Though we are attempting to think positive, it is not expected that you get as far as he did, for we do not think that is possible. Simply do what you can. There is no way to duplicate exactly what this Quirrell experienced, but a close proximity to his journey can be expected."

"Alright," Bill paused. "Considering that Quirrell was unaccompanied, what is the purpose of my guide, should I get one?"

"To remove you from a situation in which you would be killed," said Crinklow.

"Or mentally damaged," put in Queezink.

"Well, yes of course," responded Crinklow.

Bill sighed. "I probably don't want to know the answer to this, but, er... if I don't get a guide... ?" he left his question unfinished.

Frank sighed as well. "Unfortunately, all we could then do is wish you luck."

_Of course._ "Very well. When do I receive the information Quirrell received?"

"Come back tomorrow afternoon, say around half four. Everything shall be prepared for you."

"Thank you. I believe I must head home now." Bill stood and picked up his bag. "I cannot exactly say it was a pleasure, considering the circumstances, but I do hope to meet you all again in more favorable circumstances."

Frank rose as well. "I shall let you out of the building, Mr. Weasley." He nodded to Crinklow and Queezink. "Gentlemen, I will return shortly." He opened the door for Bill, following him out and down the stairs. They walked in silence, past the two Goblins still looking through the tome, until they reached the doors. Frank turned to Bill. "I must say, Mr. Weasley, you took all this information, and the fact that there is a chance you will not return from your pending journey, rather well. Better than we expected, in fact."

"Thank you, sir." Bill paused, not sure if he should continue. "The thing is, you were right in that I am willing to do a great deal for what I believe in. I know some people would say that this is just a job, I just work for a bank. But really, no matter what the circumstances are, when dealing with You-Know-Who one cannot be too careful. I may have been young when he was last in full power, but I still remember the terror he invoked. Still invokes. Besides," Bill shrugged, "when I accepted this position, I knew it wasn't going to be a cushy job. Granted, I wasn't expecting this, but I was aware of the risks. I just do my best and try to come back in one piece."

"Mm... It seems we chose well." Frank waved his hands and the doors silently opened once more. He extended his hand. "It was a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Weasley."

They shook hands. "Thank you again. And best wishes for the success of the delegation. Good night, sir."

Frank nodded. "Good night, Mr. Weasley." With that, Bill walked down the front steps and down Diagon Alley.


	22. Twenty One: Reflections

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

**Chapter Twenty-One: Reflections**

The sky was nearly empty of clouds, affording a clear view of the near-full moon hanging with the stars, casting a gentle light over the houses and shops. Bill sat at the top of the hill overlooking the hamlet near his family's home. Windows in the tiny buildings, the homes of the villagers, winked at him through the night as lights were turned on and off. Faint wisps of smoke curled out of some chimneys, carelessly making their ways to the stars.

Growing up, Bill often found his way to this spot. There was something about the picturesque order it had with the gentle breezes mingling with the clean, crisp air; the quaint buildings somehow placed at just the right spots; animals scattered around, frolicking in the fields; villagers going about their daily business. He could sit for hours contemplating it, mesmerized by the way the light striking it at different angles and at different intensities would change the whole picture. Sometimes he sat on the ground, his back to his favorite tree. Other times, he lounged amid its branches. He would come whenever he wished to be alone, to think in peace, or was troubled about anything.

For some strange reason, his brothers always respected that without question. He remembered one time when little Ron was barely able to stay on a broomstick. His brothers all wanted to play a low-flying match of Quidditch. Charlie, Percy, Fred, and George did not really want Ron around since he could not fly well, and they thought to use there being an uneven number as an excuse. Mum got wind of the squabble and told them to go get Bill. He found out later that, after she gave that suggestion, they all turned and looked at the hill for a few silent moments. They never did get him, though they knew if they had he would have played to keep the peace. They simply traipsed up and took turns keeping Ron out of trouble as he hovered in the air.

Though that particular instance stuck out in Bill's memory, there were other times when they would play while he sat alone. Their cries and shouts seeping through the dense foliage to his ears, mildly jarring the silence of the countryside. Yet knowing they were near did not bother him so much. Indeed, the sound of their enjoyment would help calm whatever tumultuous thoughts were running through his mind. It was as though he could feel the love of his family through those sounds. That, in addition to the picturesque view, would always settle him down, wrapping him in a warm, safe blanket.

Over the years, the view hadn't changed much. It had gotten a bit older, a bit more worn. But age had given it a deeper character. _Perhaps that had always been there, _he mused. _Perhaps it is my growing older that opened my eyes to aspects of the world I could not understand when I was younger._ Bill heaved a deep sigh. _What I wouldn't give for the additional sound of the boys in the background to complete this scene now..._

* * *

Arthur Weasley sat at the dining room table sorting through some paperwork. A glance at the clock told him that his eldest son was still sitting out on the hill. He had been there for nearly an hour. Arthur knew he probably should not be waiting up so late for Bill to come home. In his youth, when Bill would disappear out to the hill he could very well be expected to be gone for a few hours, so there was no telling when he would be back. Even so, his eldest son's appeal for a moment of time held an underlying sense of anxiety and a little urgency. Arthur instinctually knew that it had nothing to do with his mysterious meeting but, though he had a few different speculations, could not put his finger on what it was exactly.

"Dear, why are you still up?" Molly stood in the doorway, pulling her dressing gown around her. She had a concerned look on her face. "Surely work can wait until tomorrow morning. Is something wrong?" She came over and stood next to his chair.

He smiled at his wife of nearly thirty years as he reached out and took her hand. "No, Molly, nothing at all. I'm just waiting for Bill to come inside. When he got here this evening, he mentioned that he wanted to talk to me about something."

"So late?"

"Well, not exactly. He actually told me _not_ to wait up for him. But I rarely got to see him these past few years that he was in Egypt, and with everything else going on with You-Know-Who who knows if a chance for a nice chat will come again soon, and there was something about the way he asked, and-" he stopped himself and sighed.

Molly leaned over and kissed his forehead. "And you wouldn't have been able to sleep anyway. Is he alright, do you think?"

"Oh, I'm sure he is. You know how he gets when he is out on the hill. And all he told me about what he wanted to discuss was that it is 'complicated', which could mean any number of things."

"Hm... Sounds like a night of serious boy-talk to me." She paused. "Complicated... I wonder..."

He chuckled. "My thoughts exactly."

"Well, as you said, I do know how he gets. He could be out there for a while yet. Would you like me to wait with you? I can make some tea and then zip upstairs when he gets to the porch."

Squeezing her hand, he stood up. "I would love the company. I'll just put my papers away."

As they settled together in a comfortable silence that only comes with many years of knowing and loving someone, they could hear thunder rolling in the distance.

* * *

Katrin stood on a balcony overlooking the Labyrinth, leaning against the railing. The sun was low in the horizon, casting its warm glow over all the land. She waited for the moment when it would hit at just the right spot. _I love this view. I feel as though every portion of my being returns to its proper place. How can landscape be this calming? Even the sight of the Dark Woods pulls order out of chaos. _She sighed, knowing that it was getting late and she should probably go inside and get some sleep. _Just a few more minutes. It's almost there..._

Without warning, the whole maze came alight with a golden hue. It mingled with the vibrant colors already giving life to the Labyrinth, claiming it as its own and refusing to surrender it to a duller, paler existence. The reds and oranges from the Firey Swamp leapt out from foliage so dark it was almost black, as though waiting for a breeze to carry its flames out across the land. The cold and unmoving stone walls shimmered with the glittering silver that was visible only when looked at without a sense of anxiety and haste, ready to take on the heat from the Swamp with the ice glazing its surface. The vibrant green Hedge trapped between, healthy and thriving and ready to either make peace between the two or grow so high as to protect them both from themselves. Even the murky Bog took on a marvelous face in the light of the setting sun.

As quickly as the moment came, it was gone, the Labyrinth slowly being shrouded in darkness. Katrin closed her eyes, breathing in the peace that this strange and dark land brought her. The only time she felt this way when she was away from it was when she played and sang. Her own compositions or someone else's; alone, with friends, or with thousands of eyes on her; it did not matter. Through them, she was somehow able to harness the torrent of chaos life left in its wake and return to a more calm state. She sighed again and pushed herself off the rail. Giving the Labyrinth a lingering glance, she turned and went inside.

* * *

Sarah walked into the throne room to find her husband sprawled in his chair looking pensive. His chin rested on one hand, elbow on the armrest. The other hand unconsciously twirled a crystal as he stared at his feet. His face openly displayed the variety of feelings connected to his thoughts and she smiled to herself, loving how completely unguarded he was at this moment. It was a far cry from the cold and distant man she once thought of as an adversary, all those years ago. Both had changed much since then, in ways seemingly far too many to count. Rather than causing them to grow apart, those changes served only to bring the two closer together than anyone who knew of their first encounters ever expected. Including themselves.

"Hello there." The melodic voice drew Jareth out of his contemplations. He looked up and found his wife leaning against the doorframe, thoughtfully regarding him. "Where were you?" she asked.

"Not far," he responded. Their eyes met and their most recent thoughts mingled with each other. Looking down at the crystal in his hand, Jareth stood. He extended his hand, offering the crystal to her.

She smiled at the familiar game. Slowly, she pushed herself off the wall and walked toward him. "What is it?"

"Just a crystal; nothing more." With a flick of his wrist, it spun around his hand once. "But if you turn it this way and look into it, it will show you your dreams. Do you want it?"

"Hm... A tempting offer, Goblin King." Sarah reached out and ran one finger across the surface of the proffered crystal before gently pushing his hand out of the way. She wrapped her arms around his waist and tilted her head back to look at him. "But I have no need of a crystal to see what my dreams hold."

"Mm..." He held her close. "Did you search me out for a specific reason?"

Sarah shook her head. "No. But you can tell me what has you so concerned that you fear losing our daughter."

"I cannot hide much from you, can I?" Before she could respond, he interrupted her. "I know, I know. That is my own fault for opening my thoughts to you." His dramatic sigh elicited a chuckle from her. "I am probably overreacting, and I do not know the whole story yet, and I promised not to tell you about it or question her further until you were around as well."

Her raised eyebrow echoed an expression he often used. "I see... So should we seek her out for this inquisition now and put you out of your misery?"

"An enticing offer, though I am not entirely sure that I want to know the answers that badly." His eyes clouded briefly with the far off expression he bore a few minutes earlier as he rested his chin on her head. She squeezed him tight and he looked down at her gentle and understanding smile. "Besides, she might do me bodily harm if I do not let her come to us instead. You would have to protect me."

Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she regarded him. "I will give that request due consideration."

His own eyes narrowed. "Oh really?" He pointed a finger at the tip of her nose. "Sarah, don't defy me."

She looked at him in mock horror. "Or what?" Jareth responded merely by tickling her. "Hey!" she gasped between giggles. "That's not fair!"

"I know. But it works."


	23. Twenty Two: Midnight Chat

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Midnight Chat**

The faint sound of thunder startled Bill. He looked around in time to see the flash of light in the west. _Bloody English weather... It just figures. I better head inside, just in case._ He dusted himself off and started down the hill toward the cottage. Before he reached the bottom, the wind started to pick up around him. Deciding it might be prudent to just make a run for it, he sprinted the rest of the way. Just as he reached the porch, huge drops of rain began to fall. Heaving a large sigh of relief, Bill silently let himself in the front door.

He was about to tiptoe up the stairs when he heard clinking noises emitting from the dining room. Going to the doorway, he peeked in to find his parents sitting at the table drinking tea and laughing over something. He leaned against the jamb, watching them for a moment. A smile played about his lips as he realized how much they still loved each other after all these years.

As much as he wanted to talk to his father, he had no intention of disrupting his parents. Instead, he decided to go up to bed quietly. But as he took a step backwards to disappear into the shadows, he heard his mother say, "No, stay Bill. I'm going upstairs. I'll just make you boys a fresh pot of tea."

"But I don't want to both-"

"It's quite alright, dear. I was just keeping your father company until you decided to come inside out of the cold. Now give me your cloak and I'll get you a warmer jumper as well." Molly bustled Bill into the room and had him sitting down before he could protest again, then zipped off to the kitchen.

Arthur chuckled at his son's audible sigh. "No sense in arguing with her when she's determined."

"I know, I know. But I still have to try," Bill grinned. "Being complacent gets a bit boring at times."

"True."

Molly returned then with a large, fluffy jumper, a blanket, and a tray with tea and a plate full of biscuits. As Bill got up to help her, she set everything except the jumper down on the table and pulled the jumper over Bill's head. "Thanks, Mum," he said, his voice muffled from inside the thick wool. "I'll take it from here." Arthur merely chuckled more.

"Now, don't you two stay up too late. I will see you in the morning." She kissed them both on the cheek and then went up the stairs.

Arthur regarded Bill as he stared at the door through which his mother had disappeared. He wondered how long it would take him to bring up the topic that seemed to be weighing on his mind. "I hope you don't mind that I waited up for you."

"Not at all. I was actually hoping that you would, though I didn't really expect you to. I sort of lost track of time when I was out on the hill."

"Nonsense," Arthur snorted. "You were not out there for nearly as long as you usually take."

Bill looked at his father, startled, then he grinned sheepishly. "Well, I was just thinking about things."

"Mm hmm." He poured himself a cup of tea as he waited for his son's next move.

"You know the village?"

"Of course."

"I mean, have you ever been there? Talked to the people?"

"Well, not really. We went in once or twice, many years ago, but didn't stay long. The Muggles kept looking at us a bit strangely."

"After that meeting, I felt," Bill paused and shrugged, "overwhelmed with all the information. I wasn't ready to come home yet, to face everyone. So I just went out to the hill."

It took Arthur a moment to catch the topic shift. "Why not? You know you can always come home. What happened at the meeting?"

"That's just it, I can't tell you. Which is fine and everything, but for some reason all of a sudden not being able to share any of my concerns and fears just started to get to me. All the other missions and quests I have been sent on, while I knew there were risks, have never given me such a sense of-" he made a brief gesture. "something. And so isolated. And the last thing I wanted was to go home to the people I care most about, only to have to hide from them what was running around in my head. And you would all know something is wrong. And I wouldn't be able to say anything other than 'nothing' or 'it's just work' which would set Mum off worrying and everyone else on edge because I would be on edge..." Bill trailed off.

"Well, I suppose that's true. But-"

Bill didn't let him continue. Indeed, he seemed not even to hear the interruption. "So as I sat there, looking at it, the same scene that I have seen for ages, I wondered what sort of people live there, what kind of community they make." Bill dragged one hand through his hair, rising from his chair and starting to pace. "Do you know, for twenty-five years, a quarter of a century, I've lived out here and I've never once gone down there. I've never once met and befriended the Muggles who live there. Have any of them ever walked up the hill to the grove so they could play ball games like we do? Do they look down and see our cottage nestled and secluded and wonder what sort of people could live there? Does anyone even know our house is out here?"

_This wasn't what I was expecting. _"Well-"

"What would they think, if they knew? If they knew what they don't really know because we decided that it would be best for them not to know so made it seem like there really wasn't anything to know about it anyway? All of a sudden? How do the Muggles who find out about us deal with their notions, their beliefs being thrown completely out of the water?"

"Well-"

"Is it even right to keep it a secret? I know that it is for our protection, possibly even for theirs, but is it right to deny them knowledge about something that is just as much a part of their world as it is ours?" As Bill projected all his confusion at the discovery of the existence of the Fae into his questions about the Muggles and their impression of the absence of magic, he became more frustrated and baffled at having not been allowed to know the truth from the start. _I wonder if this is what Muggles feel like when they find out that magic is still in use. How could they tell me like that, just blurt it out? There has to be a better way, surely. Other wizards and witches have had to tell Muggles before. How did they do it?_ "How do _I_ do it?"

Arthur was completely lost. "Slow down a minute, Bill. How do you do what?"

Bill stopped pacing and looked at his father. "What?"

"You were going on about the righteousness of the Wizarding secret, then you said 'How do I do it?' Do what? Keep it a secret?"

"Oh, that. No, I meant how do I tell a Muggle about the existence of the magic."

Arthur blinked at his son. "_Tell _a Muggle? Right or not, Bill, you can't just go around telling Muggles about-"

Bill sat down suddenly. He perched on the edge of the chair and leaned toward his father, his whole stance one giant plea. "But, Dad, doesn't she have the right to know?"

_Ah ha... now we come to the point._ Arthur held back his smile. "She?"

Bill had no idea what sort of question that was. "Yes, she."

The smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth. "She who, son?"

"Katrin."

The smile came out in full force. "Ah. And who is Katrin?"

Bill dragged his hand through his hair again, pulling it out of its ponytail, then slumped into the chair. "She's a Muggle I met in the States while I was on holiday. She's actually what, well, _who_ I wanted to talk to you about."

Arthur leaned back and regarded Bill again. "Oh? And what is she like?"

A slow grin covered Bill's face. "Oh, Dad, she's great. She's funny, and talented - she sings and plays the guitar - and she is really friendly and genuine. And her laugh! It's like bells or something. And her eyes, everything she says and feels is echoed in her eyes with the most incredible intensity." He swung his upper body down before getting up and pacing again, continuing to extol her virtues. Arthur bemusedly watched his son go back and forth. "I know I am sounding like a complete sap, but I've never felt like this before. It's weird. And it's all so fast." He stopped suddenly, then hung his head and continued pacing. "No, you're right. I'm just blowing things out of proportion, that's all. We're too different. She probably just wants to be friends or something, was nice to me because I was by myself. I mean, even though we couldn't stop talking about everything that interested us, and she did email me back and would probably have done something later that week. At least, she seemed like she might have. She's over there, and I'm over here. And with You-Know-Who coming back... but I don't really want to think about that. Still, we might never see each other again. Right, we probably won't. So I shouldn't worry about it. Right? Not with where I'm off to later this week. And she had her family problem. Maybe she was trying to avoid me. I was too forward. I scared her off. But she was too straight-forward to lie, wasn't she? I mean, she had no qualms about threatening that Ector guy with the Barrel of Shame, so why would she have qualms about telling me to go away. So she probably really did have something come up and I'm just being ridiculous by thinking that she wouldn't. And the best thing to do is take it one step at a time, just try to get to know her. And Gringotts still owes me the rest of my holiday, so I can go back later. And maybe she would be able to come to England. She seemed interested in things over here. Right. I'll go into town tomorrow and find one of those Internet Café places she was talking about and email her that I got here all right. And then if things work out well after awhile, I'll figure out how to explain to her about the existence of magic without completely freaking her out."

Bill finally stopped pacing and grabbed his bag from where he had dropped it on the floor. He clasped his father on the shoulder. "Thanks for your help, Dad. I'm off to bed." After he went through the door and around the corner, he stopped and poked his head back in the room. "Oh, and Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Please don't tell Mum about all this. You know how she overreacts to everything."

Once again, Arthur held back his smile. "Of course, Bill."

Bill grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. "Cheers, Dad."

After Bill's footsteps quieted up the stairs, Arthur began to chuckle in earnest. _Of all things... Poor Bill. He's got it bad. _As he cleared the table of the tea things, he thought over all that his son had said. _I wonder what email is?_


	24. Twenty Three: Secrets and Feathers

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Secrets and Feathers**

Katrin lay on her bed with her eyes shut, her feet resting on the headboard while she absent-mindedly strummed her guitar. At the unexpected knock on her door, she leaned her head back and opened her eyes. "Come in." Seeing that it was Christopher, she looked back at the ceiling and shut her eyes again. "Hey."

He snorted. "I know that there is always a thrill at seeing your favorite older brother, but please temper your excitement just a little bit so as not to scare the innocent bystanders."

Katrin grinned. "Well, if you insist, I shall endeavor to hold myself in check."

Christopher shut the door, then threw himself down on Katrin's bed. "Oof." He took hold of a strand of her hair and started twisting it. "So, what's new?"

"Oh, you mean apart from getting called home weeks earlier than expected, possibly having to back out of some contracts because of that, being required to participate in pomp and circumstance - complete with ridiculously extravagant clothes - tomorrow, and then finding out that the world doesn't work the way I have always been told it has? Nothing much."

"Uh huh."

When he didn't say anything else, she turned her head to look at him. He was staring at her with a knowing look. "What?"

He tapped her nose with the strand of hair. "That wasn't what I meant."

She looked at him suspiciously. "What?"

"I hardly think that this whole thing with the Goblins is the reason you have been playing _that_ song for the past forty-five minutes."

She immediately stopped playing. "I have not... ok, so I have. But it hasn't been that long..." She looked at a clock and sighed. "Ok, so maybe it has. But how did you hear it?"

"I didn't. Your room is right next to Andreas' and both of you have your windows open. He came to me and asked me what he should do because your playing was driving him nuts. I told him to either shut his window or just bang on the wall until you stopped. He didn't seem to think those were good ideas. I asked him what the problem was since he normally enjoys it. He said it wasn't the fact that you were playing so much as it was the same song over and over again, and it wasn't even a _good_ song. When he told me which one it was, I said that I'd talk to you."

She looked at the window that was wide open. "Oh." He put the strand of hair across her forehead, then flipped the rest of her loose hair over her face. She blew it out of the way and gave him a flat look. "You are such a dork." Katrin set her guitar in its case and pushed it under the bed, then went over to the window.

"This coming from the girl who has been playing the same song for almost an hour." He sat up and leaned against the headboard. "So? What gives? Did something happen Aboveground?"

Katrin pulled the window shut and stood there looking out of it for a long moment before answering. "Did something happen," she repeated sardonically. "I guess you could say that."

"I see. And does he - oh, pardon. Does this 'something that happened' have a name?"

She turned abruptly. "What?"

Christopher chuckled. "You have the best reactions, I swear. Look, Andreas might not remember the last time you played _that_ song for hours on end, but I do. You were twelve and had the biggest crush on that guy, and then he went and got married." He shook his head. "Though why him of all people I'll never understand."

"Oh, shut up."

"Come on, he was way too old for you, and had the personality of a goldfish. And -"

She cut him off. "Before you go on waxing poetic about the faults of my childhood crush, I would like to point out that you are just as guilty of fascinations with goldfish, and on more accounts than me. Remember Arielliana? And Gloryenne? And then there was -"

He held up his hands in defeat. "Ok, ok. We'll put the goldfish off as follies of youth. But the point is, I remember you played _that_ song, and _only that song_, for days. Then you got over him, and hadn't played it since. And if _I _remember, I know that Mom and Dad remember. So you might want to vary your playlist before they hear you and start nosing around." Katrin groaned and threw herself down on the bed, covering her head with a pillow. "Of course, now that I have discovered the truth, I _could_ do something cruel, such as use the information for blackmail..." He trailed off, waiting to see how she would rise to that piece of bait, hoping for a pillow fight reminiscent of days long past.

She disappointed him, only letting out another groan. "Don't bother. Dad already knows," came her muffled reply.

_Damn. Strike one._ He lifted the corner of her pillow and peeked in at her. "Oh, really? How did that happen?"

"He was spying on me. Granted, it was unintentional. He was looking for me to tell me that I had to come home and happened upon us eating lunch at Alistair's. He started to give me the third degree later, but the importance of the Goblin thing outweighed that particular train of questioning, thankfully. And I got him to promise not to tell Mom about it."

"Score one for you. Though I wouldn't count that as a victory for long."

She groaned again. "Tell me about it."

"But at least - wait, wait. You were eating lunch at _Alistair's? _You already took him there? Sounds pretty serious."

"It isn't. We only just met the other day and then had lunch together."

"Sure, Kati." He obviously didn't believe her. "No wonder Dad was in a foul mood when he returned Underground after looking for you." He let out a low whistle. "Man, you haven't even taken _me_, your dear brother, to Alistair's and you took this guy." They were silent for a few minutes. "I take it he's a Mortal, then?"

"Yeah."

Christopher nodded. "And what is his name?"

"Fitzwilliam Weasley. Bill for short."

"And where did you find him?"

"At the _ Park Faire."

He snatched the pillow off of her head.

"Hey!"

"I thought you said that the men you work with at those Faires of yours did not make good relationship material, and the ones that did were already taken, and the ones that weren't taken but would have had honorable intentions were consumed with providing you with nothing beyond brotherly companionship, which didn't matter anyway because you weren't interested in any of them. And don't deny that you said it, because I distinctly remember that particular rant."

"I won't deny it. He didn't work there. He was a patron." She glared at him in response to his incredulous look. "If you're going to be like that you can just leave."

"No. However, because I am a kind, loving, and generous person, I will change the subject."

Katrin rolled her eyes. "Thou art truly most kind and generous, your Highness."

He loftily waved one hand. "Yes, I am, aren't I."

"Humble, too," she muttered. "What is the new topic of discussion?"

"What do you think is going to happen tomorrow?"

"You mean with the delegation?" He nodded. "I really don't know. I'm still trying to wrap my brain around this whole Magical Realm thing. I can't shake the feeling that there is something else Dad isn't telling us. And it worries me that he is worried about the involvement of the High Court, and that there is a chance what he decides will be against Their desires."

"I know what you mean. I can't decide if I want time to go slowly to prolong having to deal with it or for time to go swiftly so it will be over."

"Well," Katrin began after a few silent moments, "it is probably just as well that you can't decide, as Dad would only tell you that reordering time is not acceptable except in 'dire circumstances' when it is 'absolutely necessary'."

He chuckled, "True."

They were quiet once again. "Although," she continued after a few minutes, "I think I would prefer it to go slowly. Anything to prolong getting done up in full regalia." She stuck out her tongue. "Blah."

Christopher turned and regarded her. "You know, I never could understand your aversion to Courtly garb."

She looked up at him. "Why not?"

"Well, it is true that it is rather extravagant and horribly old fashioned at times, almost to the point of being ridiculous..."

Her eyes narrowed. "But?"

He looked at the ceiling innocently. "But considering you spend the entire summer running around with people who dress just as extravagantly and even more horribly old fashioned and ridiculous, and even join in with great enjoyment..."

"You!" Katrin grabbed another pillow and smacked him with it.

"It's about time!" Christopher responded, as he began pelting her with the pillow that was still in his hand. Soon, they were at it in full force.

In his room next door, Andreas heard muffled shrieks. "Now what," he muttered, stomping to his sister's room. "Those two are making so much noise." When no one responded to his knock, he flung open the door. "What are you do - PILLOW FIGHT!" He hollered down the hallway. There was a massive thundering of feet and banging of doors as Lewis and Justin poked their heads out their doors and the three brothers ran to get pillows of their own and join the fun.

Hand in hand, Jareth and Sarah walked up the stairs that led to the suite containing the bedrooms of their five older children. Only Michael did not have space there yet, as he still slept in the nursery connected to their own rooms. As they opened the large set of doors on the landing, they could hear a good deal of laughter emanating from their daughter's bedroom. Exchanging a look, they were about to turn around and go back downstairs when they heard a loud THUMP! Sighing, Jareth went on ahead toward the room. Sarah grinned, shaking her head, and followed him.

"Ow!"

"Watch the table!"

"Hey, that's not fair!"

"Foul! Foul! Fo-oof!"

"Oh, get off!"

"AAAAARR!"

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?"

Five pairs of eyes turned to the doorway at the sound of the roar, and no one moved. Christopher was lying on the floor, Lewis had his hands pinned down and Katrin was sitting on his stomach. Andreas was paused in mid-swing to get Katrin upside the head, though he might have missed as Justin was standing on the bed aiming for Andreas' own head. "Hi, Dad," came the chorus of innocent sounding voices.

"Well?" asked their father, one eyebrow raised. His five children simply exchanged looks and grinned at him, innocently. Jareth sighed. "Go to bed. We have a long day tomorrow."

"Yes, Father," came the resounding chorus.

He turned around and looked at Sarah who was leaning on the wall next to the door, trying not to smile. He was about to walk away when he heard two consecutive 'thwumps' and the sound of something exploding. When he looked back over his shoulder, he saw a large cloud of feathers hiding his giggling children. "Enough." He casually tossed a crystal and the feathers were gone. "Bed. Now." He pointed at each of them in turn. "And no more laughing tonight." With that he turned and walked down the hallway. Sarah took his arm and gave him a questioning look, the laughter shining out of her eyes. He grinned down at her and winked. As they reached the doors to the stairs, they heard each of their children make a final comment.

"Who is he trying to kid? 'No more laughing', indeed. Like he isn't guilty of causing hysterics? You should have heard him and Mom in the Throne Room earlier."

"Again?" Audible sigh.

"Rabbits, I swear."

"Ew!"

"Why are they rabbits?"

There was a long pause, then the other four answered in unison, "Ok! Time for bed!" Had any of them bothered to listen, they would have heard more laughter coming from the stairwell.


	25. Twenty Four: The Goblin Delegation

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

**Chapter Twenty-Four: The Goblin Delegation**

The tension in the hall hung in the air, settling heavily on the shoulders of everyone present. The delegation was due to arrive any moment, and that knowledge seemed only to strengthen Jareth's desire to begin pacing and start kicking anything that got in his way. The only thing restraining him at this point was the pressure of his wife's hand upon his own.

He glanced at the woman seated at his side. She faced forward, her eyes scanning every aspect of the set-up, mentally double-checking for any extremely last minute adjustments. She sat completely still, exuding poise from every fiber. _Except,_ he noted, _for the white-knuckled grip she has on one of her armrests and on _my_ hand._ He gently extracted his hand and changed positions, resting his atop hers, and gave a gentle squeeze. Somehow, through that simple act, he felt able to breathe easier again. Smiling to himself, he returned his gaze to the large doors at the other end of the hall.

Sarah desperately searched for something to keep her mind off the feeling of dread housing itself in her stomach since Jareth informed her of the delegation. She had checked and re-checked all the details for the day's proceedings, had tried deep breaths, and had even worked through some of the mental relaxation techniques she learned years ago in a high-school drama class. Nothing seemed to work. Thankfully, the appearance of calm masking inner turmoil of any sort came second nature after many years of practice. Though, admittedly, this morning she was having difficulty retracting her vice-like grip on her arm-rests.

The sudden touch of her husband's hand on her own startled her; she barely refrained from jumping out of her skin. Looking down, she saw that her left hand was on _his_ armrest rather than her own and, judging from the marks, she had been digging into his hand. Turning her gaze to his face, she noticed the knowing, self-satisfied, and slightly arrogant smirk he wore when he had just discovered something about her that she had not. Normally this served to do nothing beyond irritate her completely. However, she was slightly surprised at finding the expression actually intensified the way he was regarding the door as though he could force it to open simply through his gaze. _Which, _she realized after giving it some thought, _he probably could do anyway._ She wondered how long it would take before he actually _did_ make the doors fly open. For some reason, this struck her as incredibly funny and, as she focused on not laughing outright, she managed to relax her grip.

A feather-light whisper drew Jareth's attention. "They are coming." Everyone present knew his announcement would give them only a few seconds warning before the doors at the end of the Hall opened. The portal being used by the delegation was set to open in the antechamber, four steps from the doors. As soon as all members of the party entered the Underground, the portal would close and doormen would perform their duty.

Katrin smoothed the fabric of her skirt where she had been twisting it and folded her hands in her lap. She could not decide if she was relieved the delegation had finally arrived or more nervous because of it. As she raised her eyes to the heavy, wooden doors, they slowly and silently opened outward. She took a deep breath.

Squeeker, the herald whose name belied a carefully trained voice, stepped into the room and bowed. After he rose, he spoke. "Your Majesties," he boomed, "a delegation from Gringotts Bank Aboveground has arrived seeking to petition for aid."

Jareth nodded slightly. "We grant them leave to enter the Hall and voice their request."

Squeeker bowed low then swept to the left of the doorway and faced the side wall. Turning his head toward the delegation, he made a grand gesture with his left arm beckoning them inside. "Enter the Hall of the Goblin King." Turning his head in the opposite direction, he intoned. "Majesties, I present the Delegation Goblins of the Magical Realm of the Mortal World, led by Master Queezink and Master Crinklow, Governors at Gringotts Bank Aboveground."

Katrin's eyes widened imperceptibly as she watched five Goblins process toward the dais, the doors closing behind them. They were quite unlike any Goblins she had ever seen. In basic form, they were similar to the Goblins who worked in the Castle. Both types had pointy ears and noses, long fingers and feet. But that was where the similarities ended. For starters, these Goblins were at least twice as tall, though that would still leave them barely coming up to her waist. They were also definitely much better dressed wearing fitted business suits of a style that mixed those of the 19th and 20th Centuries. If she had not been used to the basic Goblin face, she would not have been able to tell the difference between each. Their features were much more indistinguishable than those of the Goblins Underground. In addition, there was a definite cleverness shining in the eyes of each, something rarely found in those here. But what unnerved her most of all was the presence of something else in their eyes. She could not quite place it, it was not precisely evil or nasty. But whatever it was, she knew it would ensure second thoughts in would-be enemies.

They steadily made their way toward the thrones. She assumed the two in the lead were Masters Queezink and Crinklow, one of whom leaned slightly on a cane. The other carried a rather large ledger. Directly behind them, the other three Goblins followed. One carried a pile of scrolls atop a flat, wooden box. The other two Goblins were carrying a large chest between them. When they finally arrived at the foot of the thrones, the back Goblins set down the chest and they all bowed in unison.

"Rise, Goblin Delegates," Jareth instructed. "It has been long since those who once set forth Aboveground to make their way in the Mortal World made the journey to the Castle beyond the Goblin City. We bid you welcome. Be at ease and let Us be made aware of the goings-on that have prompted this visit."

The front two Goblins took a step forward. The one with the cane inclined his head once before speaking. "Your Majesty," he began, "I am Master Crinklow and this is my colleague, Master Queezink. The others are clerks from various departments throughout Gringotts Bank, Kanzorr, Griphook, and Whealeng." As the Goblins' names were mentioned, they too inclined their heads. "Firstly, if it pleases Your Majesty, we have brought with us the records from the last quarter and this months tribute." At this, one Goblin unlocked the chest and flung it open to reveal a large pile of gold and gems. Another took the scrolls and placed them atop the treasure.

At Jareth's nod of approval, Squeeker rapped on a door. It cracked open and four Goblin servants ran in. They stood in a line just behind the delegates and the chest. "Take the tribute and records up to the Treasury." The servants bobbed up and down, then shut the lid. One pocketed the key, and they lifted the chest on their shoulders and scurried out the door.

_Well, _thought Katrin, _there's another difference. Stately and calm versus nearly uncontrollable hyperactivity._

When the door closed again, Jareth returned his attention to the delegation. "You are to be commended for your attention to detail and punctuality over the years. Not once have you missed a shipment, nor have you been late. Indeed, today you are early. However, surely you did not make this journey simply for the sake of delivering records?"

This time, Queezink spoke up. "No, Majesty. We thought it would be best to deliver in person as we would be present today and would have the opportunity to do so. As to the other issue, it is a complicated tale to tell.

"It begins over fifteen years ago. As Your Majesty knows, the world we live in has a Realm of Magic running parallel to the non-Magical. Those humans who dwell in this realm are able to use Magic as well. They are known as Wizards and Witches. The Magical art they practice is not all light and sunny, unfortunately. There are those who have learned what is referred to as the Dark Arts. Many years ago, there was an especially powerful Wizard who dedicated his life to the Dark Arts. For reasons too involved to explain at this time, he wanted very much to rid the Mortal World - not just the Magical Realm, but the entire World - of humans who are unable to practice Magic. He had many followers and, though those opposing him outnumbered him, there was great fear that he would never be defeated. Until one night nearly fifteen years ago.

"One night, he went to destroy a Wizarding family. There were only three, husband, wife, and a baby boy. Though he managed to kill the parents, when he tried to curse the child it backfired somehow and the Dark Wizard was destroyed. Or so it was thought.

"In truth, he was simply _nearly_ destroyed. His powers had been dissipated and he lost physical form. But, somehow, _he_ managed to remain behind. Not much is known about how he survived, if survival is what it can be called. From what we understand, the Dark Wizard would attach himself to living creatures like a parasite, moving from one to another. Until he came upon a Wizard named Quirrell.

"Through this Wizard, he was able to take steps to return to human form. He used Quirrell to drink the blood of Unicorns in order to gain strength. And he used Quirrell to attempt to acquire the Philosopher's Stone."

Katrin inhaled sharply and Sarah's eyes widened at that. Jareth raised an eyebrow at their recognition. "The Philosopher's Stone?" he asked."

Queezink opened his mouth to explain, but Sarah beat him to it. "Alchemy," she said. "The turning of metal into gold. During the 15th and 16th Centuries, possibly even earlier than that and as far into the early 17th, alchemists attempted to discover how to make the Philosopher's Stone. It's supposed properties led to many a Mediaeval and Renaissance con. Legend said that it would turn normal metals into gold and make gold multiply. And, what is more important to this discussion, grant immortality. But I thought that is all it was, legend."

"Well," Crinklow explained, sounding marginally stunned that she knew as much as she did about Mortal history, "the majority of even the most highly educated scholars believe as you do. Or did, until four years ago. Only those who were involved in the process and are still alive and those who have read the most obscure references knew the truth. Only one had been made and the research destroyed, so the rest of the Magical Realm managed to allow the truth to fade away. Of course, the non-Magical humans dissuaded themselves of the possibility completely with the development of their science and have long since written it off as legend."

Sarah sighed. "Non-Magical. Of course."

The Goblins blinked at that, not entirely sure what to make of such a statement. Jareth grinned slightly. It wasn't often these Goblins could be thrown off course. "What happened four years ago?"

"Ah, yes," continued Queezink. "For many years, the Philosopher's Stone remained locked away. Somehow, its location was discovered by the Dark Wizard and he used Quirrell to attempt to steal it from it's safe. The attempt was thwarted, it was moved, he attempted again, he was thwarted again, and finally it was destroyed."

After a brief pause during which none of the Goblins made any motions to continue, Jareth spoke up. "I understand why this would be of some concern to the Mortals," he began, "but what does this have to do with you and, more specifically, with the Underground and the Our Kingdom?"

Crinklow cleared his throat. "Now we come to the point, Your Majesty," he said. "Under other circumstances, perhaps, this would not be an issue to raise here. However, two final pieces of information have yet to be revealed. Let me do so now.

"The first is that, regardless of his thwarted attempt at gaining the Philosopher's Stone, the Dark Wizard has returned to the physical, living world. Thankfully, because the Stone was not used, that life he now lays claim to is not an immortal one. However, having returned to the physical form he has access to all the powers he once possessed. They have returned to him, as have some of his followers.

"Normally, this would be of little concern to us Goblins. Should the worst happen, the possibility to withdraw Underground as the rest of the Fae have done would still lay before us. Except something has happened that causes great concern: the Dark Wizard might have the knowledge of how to open a Portal to the Underground, the skills to survive its harshness unnoticed, and the power to return Aboveground unscathed."

"What cause do you have to believe these things?" As he spoke, Sarah felt Jareth tense through the contact of their hands. She could not help but to tense as well, both in sympathy and because she knew what was coming. Though he did not know all the details of what would be said, and gave the impression that he knew even less, Jareth was completely aware of the events in the Magical Realm. And, through him, so was she. Enough so that they were able to piece together the only possible reason the Goblins would arrive for aid at this precise moment.

Crinklow exchanged a look with Queezink before answering. "You mentioned our attention to detail, Majesty, and how it should be commended. I fear you spoke too soon for it was a lack in attention to detail that allowed the knowledge of the Philosopher's Stone being held at Gringotts Bank in a high security vault to be leaked. And it was lack in attention to detail that allowed some of our own Goblin employees to betray us and lead Quirrell into the Underground and provide him with instructions on how to arrive at the specific vault from a back entrance. It was lack in attention to detail that nearly allowed him to succeed. Had another party not had the foresight to remove the Philosopher's Stone the morning of the attempted theft, he might have succeeded completely. And it was lack in attention to detail that allowed the conspirators to be... er, disposed of before questioning and punishment made them willing to divulge the answers to three vital questions."

"What are those questions?"

"First, though the Dark Wizard could not touch his own powers without a body, as a parasite were they channelled to add to Quirrell's own allowing for special advantages when confronting the dangers of the Underground? Second, though we know the traitors opened the portal into the Underground for him, did he arrange to have them open another to return to the Mortal World or was he taught how to make his own portals? Third, and this is most important, how aware was Quirrell - and through him the Dark Wizard - of the fact that the Underground is not simply an undiscovered aspect of the Magical Realm but the World of the Fae?"

"I see." Jareth's eyes narrowed. He knew this was coming. He had seen all the signs. He had seen them four years ago. What he did not know, however... "And what, pray, do you wish Us to do in order to assist you in answering these questions. For that is, I presume, what you have come here to request."

"It is indeed, Majesty," Queezink confirmed. "What we ask for is not precisely for you to _do_ anything so much as provide us with something."

Jareth raised an eyebrow. "And that something would be...?"

"A guide."


	26. Twenty Five: Diplomatic Solutions

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Diplomatic Solutions**

Whatever Jareth had been expecting, this was not it. "A guide."

"Yes, Your Majesty," responded Crinklow.

"That is it? All you are requesting is a guide?"

"A guide who will also, in the worst case scenario, be able to act as a protector." At Jareth's raised eyebrow, Crinklow hurried on. "Allow me to explain. The Board of Directors at Gringotts Bank formed a committee. They selected one of our staff to follow in the footsteps of this Wizard Quirrell. He will be given the same information as had been given to Quirrell, what we know of in any case. We will assume that he had not been told how to open a portal, but we shall tell our employee that he must return on his own. If he manages to complete the task completely on his own, then we definitely have a problem. If not, the situation shall be re-assessed and we will take further steps at that time."

"But why do you need a guide, much less a protector? And how can an equal comparison be made of the abilities of a Wizard to that of a Goblin?"

"Oh, this employee is not a Goblin but a human, a Wizard in his own right," put in Queezink. "He is one of our Curse Breakers. Though he does not specialize in the Dark Arts exactly, because he is a Curse Breaker he knows a great deal about them. He must, in order to counter them properly. He is one of the most powerful Wizards in our employment. He came to us highly recommended and extremely qualified by those who trained him as a youth. His loyalty and dedication are commendable, we trust that he will not betray The Secret."

"You mean to inform him about the Fae World?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. In fact, we already have. It is true that we do not know if Quirrell, and through him the Dark Wizard, were aware of where they were exactly. However, we felt it was imperative that our employee be informed of this so his decision to accept the quest would not be made in blind faith. Our hope is that he will be able to take stock of his surroundings and tell us whether the differences between Worlds are blatantly apparent. We have, Majesty, placed a spell on him that prevents him from speaking of the existence of the Fae World to those who do not know about it. Only you can remove it, Majesty, and, should you find him trustworthy at the end of this ordeal, we ask that you do so."

"As to why he needs a guide and protector..." Crinklow said. "This employee is highly valuable to us and we would like him to be given all chances of survival. Though he will be acting on his own instincts and with his own magic and skills, should something happen that he cannot escape, should he find himself in a deadly situation, we would like the assurance that there will be someone with him native to this World who can ensure his safety when all other means have been exhausted."

Jareth pressed the fingers of one hand to his temple. "Out of curiosity, should We refuse to grant your request, what will you do?"

Crinklow shrugged somewhat helplessly. "Then he will venture in unaided, and we shall hope he returns in a state from which he can recover."

"I see." Jareth slowly exhaled. "This is a grave matter and requires some deliberation. We shall retire and consider your request. However, as it requires expediency, We shall not keep you waiting long. Refreshments will be provided in the meantime, and should you require anything simply ask the herald. We shall return within an hour."

The Goblin delegates bowed in unison once more as Jareth rose. Holding out a hand to Sarah, she took it and rose as well, their children rising with her. Goblin King and Queen in the lead, the Royal Family left the Hall.

As soon as the door to the side room closed behind them, Katrin threw herself down in one of the fluffy armchairs and groaned. "This is all my fault, isn't it?"

"Don't slump so, Kati. You'll wrinkle your dress." Sarah sat on the arm of the chair and stroked her daughter's hair. She watched Jareth walk to the window and stare out, hands clasped behind his back.

"What do you mean, all your fault?" Christopher had removed his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair. He gently sat down then stretched his legs out in front of him. Leaning one elbow on the table next to him, he rubbed his face with his hand. "How can you be the cause of any of this? Not getting an over-inflated sense of self importance, are we?"

Katrin didn't even bother glaring at him. "Didn't you hear what that Goblin said? This Dark Wizard who is apparently the bane of all Mortals came Underground _four years ago_."

"So?"

"_So_ how could anyone, or anything for that matter, enter without attracting notice from those who control the magic of the Underground?"

"They can't."

"Exactly. So why would nothing be done if the entry was unwelcome?"

"Because of something else going on that was so involved, so potentially disastrous, that a simple occurrence of someone stumbling on the Underground could be ignored momentarily and then forgotten accidentally," Jareth answered.

"Four years ago, Christopher," Katrin went on miserably. "Don't you remember what went on four years ago? When I first moved Aboveground? _Why_ I moved Aboveground?"

"Of course I remember. It isn't something I would easily forget. But that had nothing to do with this."

"Not directly, perhaps. But if it hadn't happened-"

"Kati," Jareth interrupted gently, turning to face the room, "if this is anyone's fault, it is my own for not following through with something I should have. It wasn't just a matter of someone coming Underground unwelcome. There were other signs warning this was a more dangerous visitor. I deliberately ignored them because what was going on elsewhere involved my family. I could have easily sent someone to observe this Quirrell person."

"None of which matters now," Sarah interjected. "You two can argue this one out to your hearts content later." When both Jareth and Katrin moved to disagree, she held up one hand. "No, I mean it. _Later._ Right now we have five nervous Goblins waiting in the Hall for an answer, and we must decide what that answer will be. You said an hour, Jareth. Let us not waste time quibbling over who is to blame, something I have my own theories about that implicate no one in this room."

Jareth looked at his wife sharply. "Oh really?"

"_Later._"

He sighed. "Very well. But only because you are right about keeping the Goblins waiting." He grinned when she snorted inelegantly. "Any input on what to do?"

"I think we should let them have their guide," said Andreas, perched on the table swinging his feet. "They've never asked for anything before, right? So wouldn't it be discouraging relations or something for us to deny their first request?"

"Yeah," agreed Lewis from where he sat on Justin's lap. "And they seem to be really worried about the safety of their Wizard. I wouldn't want _my_ Wizard to get hurt if I knew he was looking for important information."

The others smiled at the innocent justification given by the young boy. "Not only that," Christopher added, "but a guide sent by you could report information to us as well. It would give a... different viewpoint to the one provided by a mortal Wizard from Aboveground." There was an underlying implication that, while the Goblins might do so, there was no reason as yet for them to trust the Gringotts employee.

"Why didn't they ever mention his name?" Katrin wondered aloud.

"Who knows? But I don't know that it matters," Jareth said. Before he could continue, he was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Enter."

It was Squeeker, carrying the flat box brought by the Goblins. "Master Queezink asked that I bring this to you, Majesties. It contains a tome that was found in the vault, left behind by the Wizard Quirrell, given to him by the traitor Goblins. A copy will be provided to their own Wizard for his quest, to be retained by Gringotts on his return. The Delegates wish the original to remain here for safe keeping, as well to provide you with more details of what information the Wizard Quirrell possessed." He laid the box on the table by Andreas, then bowed his way out of the room.

Jareth strode over to the table and gingerly opened the box. He lifted out a heavy, leather-bound book. Leafing through it, the pages were filled with diagrams, sketches, and writings. Andreas and Christopher peeked at it over the top.

"Cool," said Andreas. "What is it?"

Jareth ruffled Andreas' hair. "I am not entirely sure, yet. But before the 'guide and protector' leaves for this quest, he will know what this contains."

"So you are granting their request, then?" Sarah asked.

"Not precisely, but someone will go."

"Alright then. Who?"

"One of the Castle Goblins?" guessed Katrin.

"Hoggle," ventured Justin.

"You're not thinking of going yourself, are you Dad?" asked Christopher.

"No. You are, Chris." Jareth looked up from the book and into a mixture of expressions ranging from incredulity, to excitement, to curiosity. "Here, let me explain my idea..."

* * *

As Jareth rounded out the last detail, he sat in the armchair next to Katrin's. Reaching for Sarah's hand, he looked around the room. "So, what do you think?"

"It is very well thought out for spur of the moment," commented Sarah.

Jareth grinned up at her. "Yes. Sometimes, even I am surprised at the way my genius inspires me."

Katrin looked at her older brother. He shrugged in response to her raised eyebrow. As she held his gaze, he shifted in his chair. "Well," she said, not looking away, "Chris seems a bit unsure of it all." She got out of the chair and walked to the table. Flipping through the first few pages of the tome, she sighed. Glancing at Christopher once more, she then turned to face her parents. "And frankly, so am I. There is something about all this that gives me a strange feeling. It is not that I have a _bad _feeling about this, just strange. Like something about it is going to hit me in the back of the head. But I say go for it anyway."

"Yeah, same here," agreed Christopher. "Well, not about the strange feeling part. I'm unsure more because I think this is a huge responsibility. But if you're willing to trust me with it, I'll do it."

"Maybe that's where the strange feeling is coming from. They're trusting you with responsibility," Katrin quipped. Christopher stuck his tongue out at her. She wrinkled her nose and squinted back.

"Children, children. Enough."

"Yes, Mother," they replied.

"Right then. If everyone is in agreement?" At their nods, Jareth stood and walked to a mirror to straighten his cravat. "Andreas, check on Michael. Justin, keep an eye on Lewis."

"Does this mean I can go play now?" Lewis hopped off Justin's lap and bounced in place a few times. At Jareth's nod, he scampered out the side door followed by the other two boys.

Katrin placed the tome back in its box and picked it up. "I still don't understand why I shouldn't come back into the Hall with you, but if you think it is best..." She trailed off.

"I do, Kati," Jareth went over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Time grows short. You and your mother are the best at research and picking details out of archaic books. Since I need her with me, you had best get a head start."

She threw a pointed look at Christopher then nodded to her father. "Very well. I will be in the library." She tucked the box in the crook of her arm and, picking up her skirt, she glided out the side door.

"Ready?" Jareth asked. Christopher shrugged into his jacket and nodded. Offering his arm to Sarah, Jareth said, "Then let's get this over with."

When the door leading directly to the dais opened, the five Goblins rose from the chairs that had been brought in for them. If they were surprised to see only three enter the Hall, it could not be seen. After the royals were seated, the Goblins came forward once more.

Jareth waited a moment before speaking. "Master Crinklow, Master Queezink, Kanzorr, Griphook, and Whealeng. We have deliberated over your request. It has been decided that, while helpful, a guide would only get in the way of the scenario you hope to reproduce by sending this Wizard Underground." The faces of the Goblins visibly fell. They bowed, and Crinklow made to speak, but Jareth forestalled him with a raised hand. "However," he continued, "your concern for your Wizard's safety has been duly noted. We appreciate your concern, for it is well founded. The Underground, especially within this Kingdom, can be a harsh and unforgiving place.

"That being said, we acknowledge the request for a protector for your Wizard. I propose to send my eldest son and heir to accompany your Wizard on his quest. There is a condition, however. I do not want this Wizard to know in whose company he travels. The whole point of him coming here is to discover if this Quirrell could have made his way on his own, perhaps with help from this Dark Wizard you spoke of. By being accompanied by someone he knows is of the Fae, he might be less cautious and less thorough, depending instead upon his companion. His companion will become the guide whose presence we wish to avoid. In order to prevent this, my son will remain in another form: that of an owl. Your Wizard is to be told that, should trouble arrive, he is to send the owl for help. Should things get too out of hand, my son will return to his normal form and remove your Wizard from the situation entirely. This is the aid We offer to you. Do you find it agreeable?"

Crinklow looked at Queezink for a long moment before Queezink nodded slowly. "Yes, Your Majesty," he answered. "That will be most agreeable. In fact, it is better than we had hoped for in many ways. We too foresaw the problems with a guide, but were unsure how to deal with them. You have provided a perfect solution. Especially since, in the Magical Realm, owls are used to carry letters and, in some cases, become animal companions. Most agreeable indeed. Our many thanks, Your Majesty." The Goblins all bowed again.

_I wonder if they rehearsed that?_ Christopher thought._ They certainly do bow in sync quite a bit._

"Very well. Christopher, Our son, will accompany you to a small antechamber where you can acquaint him with the details surrounding the quest you planned. You are welcome to join Us for a small luncheon this afternoon before your departure."

"Again, our thanks, Your Majesty," said Crinklow as they all bowed once more.

Christopher rose and stepped down from the dais. Turning, he bowed his head. "Father, Mother." He turned to the Goblins and gestured to the doors. "If you would follow me?" As they neared the doors, he asked in a low voice, "This probably has no bearing on anything, but would you mind if I asked the name of the Wizard you will be sending?"

"Not at all, Your Highness. It is Weasley. Mr. Fitzwilliam Weasley. Though I believe he goes by Bill."

"Ah, thank you." Christopher barely stopped himself from coming to a dead halt in shock. _Bill Weasley? As in _Kati's_ Bill Weasley? It certainly isn't a common sounding name... _He shook his head and grinned to himself. _You and your strange feelings, sis. _I_ have a feeling the whole thing is _definitely_ going to hit you in the back of the head. Oh, this is going to be good..._


	27. Twenty Six: I'd Like to Buy an Owl

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

**Chapter Twenty-Six: I'd Like To Buy An Owl**

Although he did not need to be back at Gringotts until the afternoon, Bill had gotten up early that morning. He wanted to go into the Muggle parts of London to see if he could find one of those Internet Cafés Katrin had told him about. After breakfast with his parents (his siblings got to lie in since they were on summer holidays), he Apparated off to Diagon Alley. Stopping first at Gringotts to get some Muggle money, he then went outside through The Leaky Cauldron and started walking up and down the streets.

It was a bit slow going as he was not quite sure what he should be looking for beyond a large sign. At least, he hoped for a large sign. Maybe some blinking lights, but as it was daylight he knew that would be a bit of a stretch. In his looking, he did find some other places that were just as interesting. There were at least twelve shoe stores, something he thought to be a bit excessive considering most of the shoes looked horribly uncomfortable anyway. There were some large bookstores that looked worth stopping at, if for no other reason than to see what Muggles thereabouts considered to be popular reads. But he managed to resist the urge and kept walking. Then there was the plethora of clothing shops, mainly catering toward women, and mainly with stranger fashion trends than those he found in the shoes. Again, some smaller places almost looked worth stopping in at, though not nearly as much as the bookstores so it wasn't as difficult to keep walking.

Finally, he found what he was looking for. There were computers like those he found at that library, except here there was row upon row of them. It was slightly overwhelming, but he was determined. The place was mainly empty. Bill settled himself in, then found his way to the website where he could check his email. As it signed him in, he found he was slightly nervous. Telling himself he was being irrational, he clicked on the box reading 'inbox'.

_To: Bill [__IndianaWeasley(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_From: Katrin [__FireyFairey(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_Subject:Safe and sound!_

_Date: Tue, - August - 11:54:52_

_Hi Bill,_

_Thankfully, nothing tragic has happened here, as I would have been told the minute I walked in the door had that been the case. Instead, my parents decided to wait for all of us to be in one room. So, I'm supposed to be getting ready for lunch during which we are to have a 'family meeting'. Unfortunately, I cannot find my slippers. Since things that need to be found usually only get found when one stops looking, I thought I'd take the moment to send you friendly little email to let you know I got home alright, as promised. :)_

_I hope things are going well for you back home and your boss decides he didn't actually need you after all so you can go back on vacation. Or, at least, that your return flight went smoothly._

_I hope I hear from you soon, _

_Katrin_

_"We are not permitted to choose the frame of our destiny. But what we put into it is ours." - Dag Hammarskjold_

Bill grinned with an odd sense of relief. _Bill, you are being a complete dork,_ he told himself. Though he could not come up with a good argument to that one, he told himself to just be quiet already and hit reply.

Since he did not expect a response right away, Bill paid for his time and then headed back out into the city. He stopped at a little shop for lunch, then tried to find his way back to The Leaky Cauldron. There was plenty to do in Diagon Alley that would kill the few hours left until his meeting.

It ended up that he did not need to waste quite as much time since he ended up getting lost. None of the street signs were anywhere visible and he ended up passing the road he was looking for four times. Regardless, he still managed to be a few minutes early. So, he waited in the lobby and watched the bustle of people rushing to take care of their banking needs right before closing time. Most of the Wizards and Witches he saw were blatantly business people, looking harried and uptight. Bill wondered how much of that was due to their occupations. He did get stressed with his job, but never to the point where he rushed around looking like that. He thanked his lucky stars once again for the random opportunity that landed him a job as a Curse Breaker. It had not been his life ambition, but when he happened across the advert one day shortly after he left Hogwarts, he thought it sounded like a bit of a lark. Eight years later, and he had yet to be tired of it.

"Mr. Weasley." Frank's voice interrupted Bill's reverie.

"Good afternoon, sir," he replied as he rose and shook Frank's proffered hand. "I hope things went well this morning."

"Well enough, Mr. Weasley. Come with me." Once again, Bill was led up the stairs to the second floor board room. This time, there was no one else waiting. On the table lay a brown leather satchel. "Please, sit down." When both were seated, Frank folded his hands on the table. "I will be brief, Mr. Weasley. The others will not be joining us today; the Delegation has not yet returned though they have been in contact with me. As for the result, though things went well for the Delegation, not everything went as expected. You see, His Majesty agreed with the necessity for an evaluation of the Wizard Quirrell's journey. However, while acknowledging the dangers of such an expedition, he has denied the request for a guide."

"So I will be on my own." Bill thought about that briefly before nodding. _This king of theirs sounds really sympathetic to their cause. _"I cannot say that I would prefer it this way, but I have never had a guide on previous quests so I will just have to deal with this one on my own as well."

"Well, not entirely."

"Not entirely?"

"His Majesty did grant a... traveling companion."

Something about the way Frank said that made Bill suspicious. "A 'traveling companion'? What does that mean, exactly."

"He has offered you an owl."

"An owl."

"Yes."

"An... _owl_?"

"Yes."

"As in the traditionally nocturnal birds of prey used to carry post?"

"Yes."

"As a 'traveling companion'?"

"Yes. And should you find yourself in dire need of assistance, you may use it to find help."

This_ is the aid being offered? Oh, very helpful. This king sounds like a complete nutter. From the sound of this Underground place, by the time the owl finds help and returns I'll likely be long gone. _"Well, in all honesty, sir, I'm not sure how much of a help that will be. For starters, I'll have to keep tabs on this owl as well as focus on the specifics of the quest. And even if we used one of the Bank's owls there's no telling how long it would take to get help."

Frank laughed, a slightly disturbing sound to those unused to Goblins. "This would not be an ordinary owl, Mr. Weasley. His Majesty is offering the use of one of his... personal owls. Help would be much closer than you can imagine."

_And this is an improvement? Right. _"Well, if His Majesty is going to insist on this, I suppose it is pointless to argue. Although, and I do not mean offense, I hope there will be no need to use the owl at all. Is that everything, sir?"

"Yes, Mr. Weasley. Ah, and this satchel is for you. It contains a copy of all the information given to the Wizard Quirrell, in addition to a briefing of the details of your departure and the things you should bring with you. I will not see you again until your return, Mr. Weasley, so have a nice journey."

_I love the way he says that as though this is a pleasure trip. Just as much of a nutter as his king, I suppose. Maybe it is a Goblin thing..._ Bill chuckled to himself in amusement. "_If_ I return sir, eh?" he quipped as he peeked in the satchel a stack of papers and what looked to be a rather large but flat tome.

"Well, that is always a risk in any case. We must be optimistic." Frank grinned.

This time, Bill's chuckle was audible. "True."

They both rose and made for the door. When they got back to the lobby, the two shook hands again. Frank caught Bill's eye. "Good luck, Mr. Weasley. And I do sincerely hope all goes well."

"Thank you, sir. I will do my best to make it so."

"I am sure you will. Good day." Turning, Frank walked off down another hallway. Bill stood there watching him depart before shaking his head and making his own way out of the building.

* * *

Bill sat on the hill. Upon returning home, he realized that if he wanted to look through the things in the satchel, he should probably not do so anywhere around his family. Someone would have inadvertently started asking questions Bill would not have been able to answer. So, the next best place would be where, should anyone he know find him, he would be left alone.

This time, he opted for sitting amid the branches of his favorite tree as opposed to beneath them. Balanced on a branch with his back against the trunk, the tome lay opened in his lap. The satchel hung on the stump of a branch that had broken off, leaving the perfect hook for one's cloak or one's bag. Not that anything was in the satchel. He had read and committed to memory the items in the briefing then destroyed it as instructed. Then, for the next few hours left of daylight he sat perusing the tome, trying to make heads or tails of it.

It was full of all sorts of information, some of which did not make much sense. There were a few maps, though each seemed more vague than the previous. He studied them until he knew all the landmarks. Because they were so vague, he figured they were more like treasure maps than practical maps, giving directions in hints and clues rather than distances and directions. Most of the diagrams he couldn't make out at all. At least not yet. The key to understanding lie in the referencing of each to something else, which he assumed would be found on his quest. The rest were sketches and drawings scattered amid sections of text.

Most of the text added details to the sketches and drawings. From what he had skimmed through, he found that they were descriptions of creatures, plants, and things to be found in the Underground. Some bore resemblance to other magical creatures he had either encountered or studied. Others were almost too bizarre to be believed. Had such a description not applied to this entire situation, he would have ridden it of the 'almost'. Still, it was a bit overwhelming. Instead, he searched the pages for small bits of writing which were not part of the original book.

Scattered here and there were notes in the margins. It was as though someone had marked ways to deal with some of the dangers described and, in some cases, made corrections to the information supplied. It disturbed Bill, but not because the notes were there. In fact, he found them to have great prospect for being helpful.

What disturbed Bill was the fact that there were two different styles of handwriting. Though the distinction was not blatant, it was distinct enough. He was not sure who wrote the notes, but he had a strong suspicion one was Quirrell. The other could possibly have been You-Know-Who writing through Quirrell's body. The implication of that was more than Bill wanted to think about, yet it needed to be considered. He wondered if the Goblins had picked up on it, and whether it was worth asking about.

As the sun set and the light receded, Bill stopped looking through the tome with all his attention. Instead, he flipped haphazardly through the pages and took in the images. He could feel his eyelids growing heavy and knew he should probably go inside soon before he fell asleep and out of the tree. Vowing to dedicate more time to the puzzle tomorrow, he dropped the tome back in the satchel and, not bothering to get out of the tree, Apparated to the Burrow for the night.


	28. Twenty Seven: Unexplainable Antics

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Unexplainable Antics**

Christopher stood in the doorway of the Library watching his sister pace back and forth. For someone who complained of the full regalia, he was surprised to see she was still wearing hers, though the Delegation had been gone for hours. He had been there for fifteen minutes but she had yet to notice him. He was not even trying to be inconspicuous, so her obvious inattention amused him to no end. When he walked in, closing the door gently behind him, she was seated at one of the reading desks, chin resting on one hand, fingers tapping her face. The tome brought by the Delegation lay open in front of her, one page held ready to be turned by her other hand. Next to the tome sat her closed laptop.

At first he thought she was concentrating so intently on digging information out of the old book that she was left completely unaware of what went on in her surroundings. Then he realized that she was in fact staring at her laptop. This bore some contemplation on his part. It was not open. He did not think it was on and in sleep mode. She was just staring at it.

Suddenly, she sighed and threw herself back in the chair. "Katrin," he heard her mutter, "don't be stupid. You have better things to do with your time." Thus said, she got out of the chair, picked up the tome, and walked over to the window. She looked down at the page she was on then turned it. Silence fell over the room. The next thing he knew, she had slammed the book shut and returned to the desk. Plopping gracelessly into the chair, she set the tome aside and pulled her laptop closer. With a click, the popped up and she pushed it the rest of the way open. A loud bell sound rang out as she turned it on.

"What are you doing?" she had asked. Christopher initially thought she was talking to him and made to respond, when she continued. "There are more important things to be doing than checking your email on the _off chance_ that he'll have replied." As she shut her laptop, putting it to sleep, and set it aside to pick up the tome once more, he had little trouble guessing who 'he' might be.

Once again, she got out of the chair, returning to the window with the book in hand. As soon as she got there, she turned around and went back to the desk, muttering, "But it has been over a day since I checked it at all..." Before she opened the laptop, she sighed, hung her head, and went back to the window. She repeated the ritual twice more before gritting her teeth and settling for pacing back and forth while, he assumed, attempting to look through the book without distraction. It was not working, though, for she kept throwing glances at the laptop every other time she passed the desk.

Finally, Christopher decided to be helpful. "Oh, just check your email already."

Katrin screamed, jumped a mile, and dropped the tome. She whirled around, eyes narrowing when she saw her brother grinning at her. "What?" she asked, sharply.

He came further into the room and pulled up another chair to the opposite side of the desk. "Just check it already. You know you want to. And I'm sure Mom and Dad would prefer you to do that rather than wear holes in their carpet."

"First of all, you know as well as I do that these carpets are impervious to wear due to pacing. That is one of the joys of having a Fae of Dad's magical calibre as a father." She picked up the tome and walked over to the desk. Setting it down, she sat in her own chair and crossed her arms. "As for me checking my email, what do you know about it?"

"Well," he replied, leaning forward, "I know you've been trying to convince yourself that you actually _don't_ want to check it for the past fifteen minutes or so, though I would not be surprised if it was longer than that. I also know how to put one and one together and can _guess_ that you are hoping to receive a message from a certain person about whom I am not supposed to speak." He grinned at her raised eyebrow. "Look, from what I saw, you can't focus. Your part of this huge shenanigan is to figure out what I need to know from that book. That'll never get done if you can't focus, right?" Her expression didn't change. "Of course I'm right. Stupid question. So put yourself out of your misery and find out if you've got a _love_ note waiting for you."

"Why are you so interested, anyway?"

He found himself on the receiving end of a full glare and held up his hands defensively. "I'm not! I'm just trying to help myself here. The more info you give me out of that book, the better off I'll be when I get going." _Plus I will get some insight on the character of this guy of yours, dear sister, _he thought.

She snorted and began ticking off her fingers. "One, I am supposed to be looking for information that could prove to be dangerous to the Underground if known by outsiders. Two, even if any of this was meant to be helpful, that help would be needed by this employee of the Bank not by you. And three, _you _wouldn't need the help in any case as you are half Fae and the Heir to the Throne of the Goblin Kingdom."

"Hey, you never know. I will be in owl form, after all. Something out there might not make the connection that it is me."

"And do what?"

"Um... eat me?"

"You forget, oh genius brother of mine, that owls are not native to the Underground and are a common form taken by members of the High Court. I highly doubt any creature would chose owl for a meal."

"Come on. Just check your email."

They stared at each other for a full minute, Christopher with an eager and innocent grin, Katrin with suspicion. "Fine," she said finally. "But if I get in trouble for unnecessary use of holes to Aboveground at a time like this, it's your fault." Christopher's grin widened as she pulled her laptop close and popped it open once more. Though he was not connected to the magic of the Kingdom as his father was, he could still feel the power weaves flow as Katrin opened a tiny portal. After two and a half minutes, she closed it again.

"That was fast."

She shrugged. "I only needed to connect and then download messages. I pay for fast access." She then reached up as though to shut her laptop.

Christopher grabbed the sides of her screen. "Hang on. Aren't you going to read it?"

"I can do that later. Let go."

"You went through all that trouble just to read it later?"

"No, but that's what I'm going to do. Let go, you're making smudges."

"Well, why don't you read them now?"

"Why are you pestering me about it? Will you let go already?"

"Not until you read them now."

"I don't have to if I don't want to."

"I'm not letting go until you do."

Katrin rolled her eyes. "Fine. You are so immature sometimes." His smile of triumph was forestalled when, instead of going back to her laptop, she reopened the tome and started flipping through the pages to find her place. Christopher made a sound of frustration. Then, a wicked grin slowly grew. Moving his hands lower on the screen, he got hold of the laptop and turned it around.

The movement caught Katrin's attention. "What are you doing?"

Determined not to be fazed by her tone, even though he knew it meant he was likely to get in trouble, he finished turning the laptop around and set it down. "Since you won't do it and are so busy, I thought I would be helpful and check for you." His brow furrowed as he looked for where she kept her email program. Abruptly, the computer disappeared from in front of him. He looked up to see Katrin snapping it shut and setting it down again, resting both hands atop it. "Hey!"

She leaned forward and pointed at him. "Why are you so interested in my email messages?"

He felt as though he had just been caught doing something naughty by his mother. "Geez, Kati. Don't look at me like that. You look like Mom, and it's kind of creepy."

"Well?"

"Ok, ok, I give. I'm your brother, Kati; I want to check this guy out. And since you probably won't let me meet him yet, I have to take what I can get." _And pry out how serious you are before I go spy on him. I wonder what Dad would do if he knew that this is the same guy he saw with her... Hm... probably throw him in a hole somewhere._

Katrin rolled her eyes. "You're not going to go away until I do, are you?" He grinned and shook his head. She sighed. "I cannot believe I am agreeing to this. Right, I'll tell you what he says. But, if you try for one instant to read over my shoulder, boy I'll ream you all the way to the Bog."

He chuckled at her empty threat and nodded his assent. _I can always sneak into her room and find out more later,_ he thought.

"And don't even think about trying to sneak into my room and taking my laptop, either. I'll know if you do."

_Damn. How did she do that?_

_To: Katrin [__FireyFairey(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_From: Bill [IndianaWeasley(a)unknowndotcom]_

_Subject:_ _Re: Safe and sound!_

_Date: Wed, - August - 10:13:57_

_Good morning Katrin,_

_I'm glad to hear you got home in one piece. Hopefully your family meeting is nothing like ours. That is usually when Mum decides we need to have a 'discussion' about something one of us kids has done to get into trouble over, and tells Dad to take care of it._

_Unfortunately for me, I didn't end up being unneeded. Though I suppose that is good for job security. I don't even get to stay at home for a while either. I leave some time on Friday for this mission they've decided I'm perfect for. I don't know exactly where it is that I'll be going; they just gave me a map and a vague description of the place. I don't even know when I'll be back. Presumably it shouldn't take more than a few days, but who knows with this sort of thing._

_Life at the Burrow - that's the name of our family home. Kind of ridiculous, I know, but we love it - goes on as usual. Dad is overworked; Mum is still trying to get me to cut my hair; Fred and George are ever developing new pranks; Ron and Ginny are enjoying their summer holidays; and Percy is... well, Percy. You have to meet him to know what I mean. He's a bit... uptight._

_I just realised I'm rambling on. Sorry. :)_

_Anyway, as I don't leave until Friday, I'll be back to check my email tomorrow. This internet café place is incredible! It is HUGE!_

_Hope I hear from you soon, _

_Bill_

_P.S. Did you ever find your slippers?_

Katrin giggled. "What is it?" asked Christopher.

"Huh?" she looked up, apparently having forgotten he was there. "Oh. Basically he says hi and asks how I'm doing and tells me something about his family. And there's this bit where he talks about his job, but he's really vague. He said before that he works for a bank, but then it reads here that he's being sent on a mission. He's probably trying to just make some excuse so I'm not encouraged to write back or something," she said with a chuckle.

Christopher noted, however, the slight worry in her eyes. _Hm... she's got it bad. And yet she's managed to put one and one together and get three. What, does she think it is a coincidence that he works for a bank too and gets sent on a 'mission' of some sort? _"I wouldn't worry too much about that, Kati. If he didn't want to encourage you, why would he write back in the first place?"

This time her chuckle was complete. "True. And he _does_ say he hopes he hears from me soon and will check for a reply tomorrow..."

"Hey, what made you giggle though?"

"Oh, nothing."

"No, tell me. Come on, pleeease?"

"Uh-uh. I told you the basics, now go away." She made to close the lid one more time.

"I don't think so." Before she could, he snatched her laptop away from her.

"Hey!" she cried, attempting to get it back. But he ran across the room to another desk. A scuffle ensued wherein she tried to reach around him and close the window, but being that he was bigger than her and his arms were longer. Usually, her agility made up for what she lacked in size and strength, but her haste in trying to get her laptop back, as well as her wearing formal and mildly constricting clothes, gave him a slight edge.

"Aw, he calls you 'Katrin' instead of adopting the ever popular nick name," he said as he twisted her arms behind her and held her back.

"So?" She managed to get one arm free and reached for the keyboard. She pressed 'command' and aimed for the 'w' when he caught her wrist and shoved her across the room.

She ran back and collided into his waist. They both grunted. "You're right, he is being vague... OW! Pulling the hair is not nice, Kati! Who are all those guys he's talking about?"

"His brothers, dimwit. The clue to that would be in the fact he is talking about 'home' and his parents." He had her pinned against him and she twisted and flailed any way she could.

"Slippers? Oof." One of her elbows caught him in the stomach. "What the hell is he asking about your slippers for?"

"I told him I couldn't find them."

"You're talking to him about your _slippers_? Katrin!"

"They're just, ugh, slippers. It isn't like I was talking about a slinky night gown or other articles of clothing." He shoved her away again.

"I certainly hope not! And you aren't going to do so, either, if I have anything to say about it! That's it, I'm replying to this Bill and telling him where the lines are." Unfortunately for Christopher, that was not quite the best thing to say. He thought it would just get a rise out of his sister, which it did. However, it also caused her to panic and she tackled him with full force, jumping on his back.

They were still wrestling on the floor ten minutes later when Jareth and Sarah walked in on them to see how Katrin was making out with the tome. She had somehow managed to get Christopher pinned to the ground, but was struggling to make him stay put. Exchanging a look with Sarah, Jareth cleared his throat. His eldest son and only daughter looked up. "What, might I ask," he said dryly, "are you two precious things doing?"

"Oh, you know. Talking and stuff," offered Christopher as Katrin got off and helped him up.

"You could have waited to 'talk' until your sister was wearing something more suitable," said Jareth.

"Yeah, but that would have made things more even," he quipped. Katrin smacked him in the back of the head.

Jareth threw up his hands and turned to leave the room. "Where are you going?" asked Sarah.

"They're your children. You take care of this."

Sarah's eyes narrowed after him. "Oh, really?" Turning to the siblings, she caught them exchanging glances. "No more for tonight, ok? I'd say I'll speak to you in the morning, but you should be old enough to know better."

"Yes, Mother," they answered, the picture of contriteness.

"Hah. You don't fool me. As your father graciously put it, you are _my_ children, and I know all your tricks." She smiled fondly at them. "Now get out of here. I'm going to speak to that husband of mine about fulfilling one's parental duties."

After she shut the door, Christopher turned to his sister. She was not standing next to him any longer, however. He heard a 'click' behind him and turned again, to find her scooting around him and scampering toward the door, laptop and tome under her arm. _How did she manage to get at both of them so fast?_ he wondered. As she waved over her shoulder and left him alone in the Library, he realized she had won. Unwilling to let it go, he bolted for the door as well and raced after her. Katrin, however, was long gone, having broken into a run as soon as she turned the corner and locking herself in her room.


	29. Twenty Eight: A Bit Of Correspondence

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: A Bit Of Correspondence**

Once again, Bill sat in front of a computer to check his email. On a whim, he had ventured into Ottery St. Catchpole, the village near his family's home. He found the tiny library and, upon going inside, discovered they had recently purchased a set of computers specifically for use on the Internet. Having brought along the tome, he figured this would be a much better place to go through it than anywhere in Muggle London. While the village was full of Muggles as well, there were a few quiet study corners here and there. He could go back and forth between preparing for his quest and, hopefully, writing back and forth with Katrin. When he went online, he found that there were three messages in his inbox, though none were from her. Mildly disappointed, he clicked on the first message to see what a person he had never heard of could possibly have to say.

* * *

Katrin rolled over and pulled her laptop out from under her bed. She had meant to email Bill the night before, but when she got to her room she could barely keep her eyes open. It had been a long day and the scuffle with her older brother had not helped. Hoping she would send the email before he checked it, she quickly typed one up and, opening a tiny hole Aboveground, sent it.

* * *

Bill's eyebrows shot up. Each message was more outrageous than the first. They seemed to be advertisements of some sort, but for the strangest things. One was for some medicine called Viagra, whatever that was. The second offered to connect him with lonely people. And the last! He could not click the delete button fast enough. He shook his head as he waited for his inbox to appear again. When it did, he had a new message.

_To: Bill [__IndianaWeasley(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_From: Katrin [__FireyFairey(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_Subject: Morning madness_

_Date: Thurs, - August – 9:42:30_

_Hiya Bill,_

_Tell me something. You have five brothers, right? What is it about them that makes_ _them think their sisters should do whatever they tell them to? I have five of them as_ _well, though it is really only one of them who is the problem. I kept getting thrown_ _across the room last night. :-P_

_The family meeting went fine. It mainly consisted of my father telling us about these important _ _guests who came over yesterday. It was this huge, complicated back-story_ _that I am still trying to wrap my head around. Then I got stuck doing some research all_ _afternoon for another thing we've got going on. Though I guess I shouldn't complain too_ _much about it. Sadly, I actually enjoy poking through huge books for information. Hee hee._

_Whenever any of us needed a talking to, we never had the whole family involved._ _Well, not unless we were all in it together. Otherwise we'd just get sent to my parents'_ _Study for a stern talking-to. In some ways, I still don't like the thought of having to go_ _in there!_

_That's too bad that you'll be sent off again rather than get to finish your_ _vacation. And so soon! Though I don't see why they can't just let you know where you'll be_ _sent. Hopefully it won't end up being some dreary place with absolutely nothing to do, no_ _excitement, and no one to talk to. If nothing else, at least the landscape might be worth_ _looking at. Do you get to travel because of __your work very often? What exactly do you do?_

_Well, I need to get down to breakfast before it is actually lunchtime._

_Write back soon!_

_Katrin_

_P.S. Yes I found them. They were under my bed, right where I always put them. :)_

_"We are not permitted to choose the frame of our destiny. But what we put into it is_ _ours." - Dag Hammarskjold_

Bill wondered how exactly he could explain about his job without explaining about his job. Once again, he found himself frustrated with the secrecy, necessary though he knew it was.

* * *

Katrin went back up to her room after breakfast. She decided that she would finish going through the tome there, where she could lock her door if necessary, rather than down in the Library. She pulled out her guitar case and put it on her pillows, setting her computer on top of it. Then, she put the tome next to it and sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed. With a sigh, she quickly checked her email.

_To: Katrin [__FireyFairey(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_From: Bill [IndianaWeasley(a)unknowndotcom]_

_Subject: Re: Morning madness_

_Date: Thurs, - August – 10:03:11_

_Katrin,_

_What was for breakfast?_

_Are you suggesting that we brothers ought to simply stand by and let sisters get away with anything? Come now, we can't have that. In any case, what did you do to provoke yours that he was forced to resort to such means? :)_

_Before your message came through, I had three others in my inbox from people I've_ _never met. They were really strange advertisements of some sort, and I don't see why they_ _thought to send them to me._

_Ironically, I'll be doing research all day too. I was given a sort of guide that has_ _the maps I mentioned before as well as descriptions of foliage and wildlife I might find._ _It doesn't really give any clear indication of the actual place, though. Just hints and_ _tidbits. It should prove to be an adventure, in any case._

_I am actually in a Library today. It's in the village near the house. It is actually_ _really small, smaller than that Library you showed me back in the States. It is nice and quiet here, so I'll be able to go off in a corner and read all day long. Definitely more_ _quiet than any room at home._

_I don't know that I would call it very often, but I do get to travel a bit. I mentioned before having __been in Egypt. I was actually there for the past few years. I went_ _there almost immediately after I got this job, though they sent me on short assignments at_ _first rather than anything long term. Then, only a few months ago, some things happened in_ _the world. Politics, international competitive events, that sort of thing. So I moved back_ _to be with my family. Of course, there isn't much a demand for what I do around here, so I_ _am back to the short assignments. I might eventually get put back on long-term status, but_ _I really am hoping to stay here. At least for now._

_As for what I do... Well, very simply put, I bring new investments into the Bank. I guess that sounds fairly boring, but it is actually more complicated than that. Sort of a specialist position. Some day when I have more time I'll have to explain it in more_ _detail. Hopefully that didn't bore you. :)_

_I should get on with my work. I'm set to leave early tomorrow morning and I should be as prepared as possible. I hope you are having a great day!_

_Cheers,_ _Bill_

_

* * *

_

Bill leaned back in the chair and rubbed his eyes. He was getting absolutely nowhere with the information in the tome. Some of the notes indicated situations occurring that were simultaneously confined to illogical boundaries but firmly rooted in a logical base and vice versa in a blend of the rational and irrational. The suspicion that none of it would make any sense until he was in the actual place became stronger the more he saw. Even more worrying was that, from what he could tell, whoever wrote the notes found the whole place to be infuriatingly maddening. Deciding he definitely needed a break, he wandered over to the little table with the computers.

_To: Bill [__IndianaWeasley(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_From: Katrin [__FireyFairey(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_Subject: Re: Morning madness_

_Date: Thurs, - August – 10:47:01_

_Bill,_

_We had eggs, cinnamon rolls, bacon, and an assortment of juices and teas. Most _ _delicious. :)_

_What do you mean by asking what I did to provoke him? It almost sounds like you are_ _taking his side... harrumph. Sticking together even though you have never met as though you are both members of some secret club. Come to think of it, you probably are! How horribly unfair. I was already outnumbered before! :P_

_Ah... sounds like you received your first bit of spam. Junk mail of the electronic nature. I recommend just deleting messages from random people unless you are expecting it._

_I know the feeling of wanting to stay close to family. I spend most of fall and_ _winter at home. There isn't much reason for it. It isn't like Dad needs my help running things. But it is nice to simply be there._

_During spring and summer, I stay in town. Well, I sort of stay in town. I'm going_ _from one Ren Faire to another most of the summer. Those are mainly on weekends, of course,_ _but still. There isn't anything too spectacular about hanging about in the middle of a field playing music all day._

_When I'm not at a Faire, I usually help out at Alistair's. I think the Aunts only let me do it to keep me busy though. I'm not quite sure what they_ _expect me to get up to otherwise, but I think it might be better not to ask!_

_It certainly is not nearly as exciting as going places like Egypt. It all sounds wonderfully exotic. I'd love to be able to travel more. Having a job that allows for that_ _would be ideal. Did you get to see the Pyramids while you were there, or was it one of those things that you always meant to do but never got around to?_

_I should get going myself. I want to get some reading in before lunch. I'm hoping to_ _get back to town in time to not have to cancel performing this weekend at the _ Park _ _Faire. Closing weekend, and all. :)_

_Katrin_

_"We are not permitted to choose the _ _frame of our destiny. But what we put into it is ours." - Dag Hammarskjold_

* * *

Katrin threw herself back on her bed with a groan. "This is impossible," she muttered. "What am I supposed to get out of this thing, anyway? It isn't like it tells me something about the Underground that I don't already know." She briefly contemplated throwing the tome across the room. Rolling her head to one side, she looked at the clock then glanced at her laptop. "Hm... I wonder..."

_To: Katrin [__FireyFairey(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_From: Bill [IndianaWeasley(a)unknowndotcom]_

_Subject: Re: Morning madness_

_Date: Thurs, - August – 11:58:21_

_Katrin,_

_Of course I have to stick together with fellow members of the League. There are sacred rules to follow, you know. Though perhaps I speak out of turn. If members of the opposition know too much, they may attempt to take advantage!_

_Personally, I find the whole idea of those Faires to be completely fascinating. I have never heard of anything like it before. I don't know if we've got anything like that here hiding in a secluded part of the country somewhere. Not that I've really been around much lately to find them._

_Egypt was amazing. I did go to the pyramids. I had a bit of work that took me there a few times, plus my family came to visit two the summer before last. We hit all the major_ _tourist attractions then._

_Speaking of lunch, I should probably head out. I promised Mum I'd be home for 'a _ _ood healthy meal.' She seems to think Charlie and I don't eat at all when we're away. Not_ _that I mind, of course. Few things compare to Mum's home cooking. Then I promised the boys_ _I'd hang out this afternoon. Well, except for Percy. He's caught up with work, as usual. We really wonder about him sometimes._

_In any case, I suppose it is just as well that I stop. I'm not making much progress with this guide thing. If I try much longer, my head might explode from the strain. It is said that it is best to quit while you're ahead. And since I am lagging far behind..._

_I hope you have a great weekend and that you make it to your Faire in time. I'll let_ _you know when I get back. I hope that, when I return, I'll be able to finish my holiday. I_ _would very much like to see you again._

_Take care of yourself,_

_Bill_

Though mildly disappointed that she would not be hearing from him again any time soon, she could not seem to stop grinning. _He wants to see me again,_ she thought excitedly. Shutting her laptop, she stuck it back under the bed and then pulled her guitar out of its case. She leaned back against her headboard and played a few chords. Suddenly, the realization of what song she was playing hit, and with it the memory of her conversation with Christopher of two nights before. _Oh my gosh,_ she thought as she shot back into a sitting position._ I am acting like a twitterpated goon! _In almost the same moment, she realized that she did not particularly care that she was. Wondering which was the more disturbing thought of the two, she leaned back again and closed her eyes, launching into a jazzed up version of 'Carrickfergus'.


	30. Twenty Nine: Familial Moments

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Familial Moments**

Bill leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes with a sigh. He thought he might explode at any minute. "You outdid yourself this time, Mum." Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny all nodded in agreement. Even though it was a Thursday afternoon, she had made a full on Sunday Roast with chicken, toad-in-the-hole, six kinds of vegetables (not counting the potatoes), stuffing, bread sauce, and gravy.

"Nonsense, dear," Mrs. Weasley replied. "Who knows when you will have a decent meal again. Where are you going, exactly?"

"Sorry Mum, I can't tell you." That statement immediately attracted the attention of his siblings.

"Why not?" asked Fred.

Bill cracked an eye. "It's classified." He grinned when they all groaned.

"Classified?" exclaimed Ron. "Come on, you can tell us. We're family!"

"Family or not, I still can't tell you."

"Classified. You're starting to sound like Percy," muttered George. "If you can't tell us, why did you bring it up?"

"Because Mum asked him, remember?" Ginny told her brother. He promptly tried to push her head, but she ducked. "At least give us a hint."

"Nope."

"Please? Is it some place tropical?" she asked.

"Is it somewhere you've been before?" asked Fred.

"In Europe?" asked George.

"Are you even leaving the country?" asked Ron. Bill just grinned more and did not say a word.

"All right, all right. Enough," said Mrs. Weasley. "He said he couldn't tell. Now, when will you be back?"

"No idea." Bill shrugged and folded his hands behind his head. "Whenever I'm done doing what I have to do, I suppose."

Mrs. Weasley frowned. "I would have thought those Goblins would be a bit more precise and detailed when it comes to the lives of their employees."

_You have no idea,_ thought Bill. "They are. But it's complicated."

"Why?" asked Fred. "What is it that you have to do this time?"

"My job."

"That wasn't what I meant and you know it."

Bill laughed. "I know. But I can't tell you that either."

Fred sighed. "Well, can you tell us about it when you get back?"

"Maybe." He shrugged again. "Like I said, it's complicated."

"When do you leave?" Ron wondered.

"Early tomorrow morning. I'd ask you to see me off, but I doubt you'll want to wake up before sunrise."

"Yikes," said George with a grimace. "Those Goblins are real slave drivers, aren't they?"

"They just expect the best."

"Which is no less than any good employer should expect," put in Mrs. Weasley. "Which is why I expect you two to focus more on your studies."

"Aw, Mum," groaned George. "It's still summer holidays. We don't have to think about studying for another few weeks."

"Oh very well," sighed Mrs. Weasley. "Now, I hope you all saved room for dessert." The five of her children who were present all exchanged looks and sat up, eager. "Good. As soon as the table is cleared..." She laughed as they all groaned while immediately scrambling for their plates.

* * *

Brooms slung over their shoulders, Bill, Fred, George, and Ron trudged back from the paddock after a game of two-on-two Quidditch. Since they were a few people short for anything resembling a proper game, and they could not fly too high or even use a real snitch, it actually ended up being more of a cross between catch and keep-away while flying. Still, boys would be boys and they had fun and got dirty in the process. Ginny trailed behind carrying the balls. She did not particularly want to play, but, determined to not be left out, went along perfectly content to watch, cheer, and act as referee if needed.

"Whew," said George, elbowing Fred in the side and glancing pointedly at Bill who walked just ahead of them.

"Great game."

Fred nodded. "Yeah. It's been awhile," he said loudly. "We never have even numbers since Percy never wants to play, and Ginny's a girl."

There was a strangled sound of indignation behind them. Before she could say anything, Ginny found herself receiving a glare from George. He gestured wildly toward Bill, and she rolled her eyes. "I just don't want to play is all," she muttered.

"Anyway," continued Fred soberly, "it sure is good to have you around, Bill."

Ron, who was walking next to Bill, looked over his shoulder at the twins as though they had mutated into hinkypunks. Fred refused to meet his eye while George suddenly looked very innocent. Ron shook his head and glanced sideways at Bill, who appeared to be struggling not to laugh.

"I daresay it is good to be around, Fred," commented Bill nonchalantly.

"Think you'll stick around after you get back from, oh where was it again?"

Simultaneously, Bill roared with laughter, Ron slapped his forehead, and Ginny groaned. "Nice try," said Bill.

Ginny snorted. "No it wasn't. Honestly, was that the best you two could come up with?"

"What?" the twins said in identical tones of incredulity.

"First, it made you sound completely insincere about being glad Bill is here," picked up Ginny.

"And you made it rather obvious that you were up to something. You're usually more subtle than that," Ron shook his head again.

"Especially considering Bill isn't exactly what you would call dim. Did you think he wouldn't figure it out? That he would just be taken in?"

Fred and George exchanged glances and shrugged. "Well," said George, "we couldn't think of anything really clever, so we thought we'd try a simpler method."

"Simple, huh? I don't think you could have even fooled Percy with that one," Ron said conclusively.

"Oh come off it, Ron." Fred nudged his brother in the shoulder with his broom. "If it was Percy, we wouldn't have bothered. He makes things secret so he can rub it in that he knows something."

"Of course," put in George. "So, rather than attempt to find out his secret, we would deliberately avoid asking."

Fred nodded. "Or just mock him about it, depending on which would annoy him more." Bill laughed even harder.

"With Bill on the other hand, at least in this scenario, frankly we just want to know."

"I already told you," Bill said when he caught his breath, "that I _can't_ tell you. I promise, the moment I am able, I'll tell you all about it."

The twins sighed heavily. "Ok," said Fred dejectedly.

By this time, they had arrived at the house. Going inside and piling in the front room, they saw Mr. Weasley had returned home from work. "Hi Dad," they chorused.

"Evening boys, Ginny," he said as he looked up from _The Daily Prophet_. Catching sight of Fred and George's expressions, he asked, "Why so down?"

"Bill won't tell us where he's going tomorrow," answered Fred.

"Are you still going on about that?" came Mrs. Weasley's voice from behind them. "He already told you it is classified. My goodness, you are all filthy! What have you been doing? I thought you just went to play a game of Quidditch."

"That's all we were doing, Mum," said Ron.

"Until Bill swerved to avoid a squirrel that made huge leap right in his path causing him to fly into the tree..." Ginny said. They all laughed.

"_What?_ That isn't anything to laugh about. Are you all right, dear?"

"I'm fine, Mum. It wouldn't be that funny except when it happened, Fred and Ron were so shocked they collided-"

Ginny interrupted, "And they dropped right into a bush where a garden gnome was hiding."

"What a gnome was doing all the way up there I'll never know," added George, "but when they landed on it, they sure made it mad!"

"All we could see was this bush shaking like crazy, and suddenly the two of them come bursting out so fast!" Ginny burst into giggles.

Mrs. Weasley threw up her hands. "I shouldn't have asked. Go get cleaned up for dinner, and someone of tell Percy to come down in ten minutes." They filed past her, still laughing. When they were gone, she shook her head and turned to her husband. "Honestly, Arthur, sometimes I don't know what gets into them!"

"Now Molly, at least nothing got blown up or transformed." He folded the paper and stood as her brow furrowed upon recollection of various gags the twins had concocted. Setting the paper on a table, he put his arm around her. Grinning, he continued. "After all, we had our moments when we were young. All that really matters is that they were enjoying themselves, and who knows how frequently that will happen in the days and months to come."

Her frown of irritation turned into one of concern. "I do worry about them, Arthur. Especially Bill. I know he just works for Gringotts, but still. Classified, secret missions for the bank, and at a time like this? And no hint as to when he will be back! Don't those Goblins know he has family?" She sighed.

"I know, dear. I know." Mr. Weasley patted her arm. "But don't you worry about him too much. He has a good head on his shoulders and knows when to turn down assignments if he thinks he cannot handle them. He'll be back before we know it, and in one piece." _At least I hope so,_ he thought, smiling encouragingly.

They were interrupted by a loud thundering of footsteps above them, punctuated by a shout from Percy. "_Now_ what are they up to?" Mrs. Weasley put her arms on her hips and frowned at the ceiling. "Whatever it is, they had best be done in time for dinner!" With that, she marched into the kitchen leaving Mr. Weasley alone to regard the ceiling as well, though he did so with a quiet chuckle instead.


	31. Thirty: Awkward Questions

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

**Chapter Thirty: Awkward Questions**

Sarah stood at one of the kitchen tables kneading dough and chatting with the cooks. The first time she had come down here to make anything, she practically had to fight just to measure the ingredients herself. Now they were all used to the peculiar penchant their Queen had for cooking. It was not as though she did it all the time, after all, and they had come to appreciate the visits.

The kitchen door swung open and Sarah looked up. She watched her daughter come to the table, set the box containing the Goblins' tome down with a thud, turn a chair around, and straddle the back as she sat. "That is not particularly lady-like, dearest," she said good-naturedly.

Katrin grinned. "And having flour in one's hair is not befitting one of your station."

Sarah laughed. "Touché. What can I do for you, Kati?"

"I have a question." The cooks were all migrating to the other side of the massive kitchen to give mother and daughter more privacy. Katrin eyed what was in each bowl and on each plate, leaning closer when she spied chocolate chip cookie dough. Without a word, the cook handed her the spoon. "Thank you," Katrin said, beaming. The Goblin chuckled and shook her head, pulling another spoon from her apron as she joined the others.

Sarah raised an eyebrow as Katrin picked out all the chocolate chips and lined them up in a neat row on the table. Nibbling some of the dough off the spoon, she then rearranged the chocolate chips into a smiley face, grinning at her mother when she was done. Sarah laughed. "What _are_ you doing?"

"Tactical delay?" she responded as she scooped up the chips and popped them in her mouth one by one.

Laughing even harder, Sarah said. "I doubt that. How are you getting on with the tome?"

Katrin rolled her eyes. "I'm not. There is nothing in here that we don't already know. The best it offers is an explanation of how to get out of some of the traps set for 'visitors'. But that is useless, really, considering it can change at any given moment. I suppose the silver lining of it is that it means it would be of no real help to said 'visitors', though I cannot see how that is at all beneficial to what the Goblins are trying to achieve with their Wizard."

"Your father is likely going to have the Kingdom reconstruct itself."

Katrin looked up in surprise. "That is pretty heavy magic... He's really concerned, isn't he?" Sarah nodded. "I guess it makes sense that he would be, but man..." There was a slight pause as Katrin nibbled on more dough and watched her mother continue to knead. "So that brings me to my question," she finally continued. "Since I'm not getting anywhere with it, do you think Dad would mind if I went back Aboveground tonight? I can take the tome with me, if he still wants me to look through it. But there's no point in me staying right now if all I need to do is look through it."

Sarah smiled. "So eager to be rid of the company of your family?"

"No, it's just..." she trailed off, trying to find a way to explain. "I have a contracted gig this weekend, and I've got to get ready for it. And... I know you all say this isn't my fault, but the whole thing makes me uncomfortable."

"I see. Well, I don't see why he would object. If you are needed it is not as though you cannot come back right away."

"Well, that's true."

There was another brief pause. "Kati..."

"Yeah?"

"Are you sure your returning Aboveground has nothing to do with the young man you're interested in?"

Katrin looked up, startled. "What? No! How did you... Did Dad say something?"

"Kati-"

"He said he wouldn't! Was it Chris?"

"Kati-"

"Oh, he is in SO much trouble if he said a word..."

"Katrin."

Her mother's dryly amused tone finally penetrated Katrin's outburst. "Huh?"

Sarah shook her head in amusement. "No one told me anything."

"Oh." Katrin regarded the spoon in her hand absentmindedly before abruptly looking up. "Then how did you know?"

"I'm your mother. It's my job to know these things." Sarah rose to get two loaf pans off a shelf.

"Why do parents answer questions with non-answers?" Katrin asked with a frown.

"To maintain the 'one step ahead' distance between themselves and their children."

Katrin snorted. "Seriously though, how did you know that I'm interested in someone?"

"Between your father being distracted and moping about something that has to do with you but refusing to tell me about it, Chris lording something over you whenever he thinks no one will notice, and you mooning about when _you_ think no one will notice," Sarah shrugged as she divided the dough in two parts and placed one in each pan. "I just put the pieces together and had a guess."

"Oh." Katrin took a bite of cookie dough off her spoon.

Sarah covered the pans with a cloth and set them on the counter. "So?"

"So... what?"

"Are you going to tell me about him?"

"Well, I want to, kind of... but I sort of told Dad that I'd talk about him to both of you together."

"Whyever did you tell him that?"

Katrin grimaced. "He caught me off guard and threatened to tell you about him before I could do it."

"That's your father for you," she said, a grin playing at her lips. "Always playing dirty."

"I do not play dirty. I simply know more rules than anyone else."

Katrin tilted her head back and looked at Jareth where he leaned on another table. "Hah, Mr. I-Like-To-Eavesdrop-and-Butt-In-When-I-May-Get-Slandered. You mean you make new rules when the old ones don't suit your purposes."

He shrugged. "That too." He walked over and sat in a chair next to her, plucking the spoon from her hand.

She snatched it back. "Get your own."

"Children, children," interrupted Sarah. "Do not make me separate you."

"Yes, Mother," Katrin said contritely, even as she grinned mischievously. Jareth grinned as well, though his was bordering wicked.

"Oh, you two." Sarah chuckled and shook her head. "Normally, I would have cause to chastise you, dearest, for interrupting a woman to woman chat. However, since you most cruelly gave this topic designation as a dual parental one, I leave the chastisement for later and make the following suggestion to our daughter." She got up and took the other chair next to Katrin, across from Jareth. "Your father and I are both here. _Now_ you can tell me about him."

Jareth raised an eyebrow. "Just you?"

Sarah went on as though he hadn't interrupted. "So, where did you meet? How long have you known each other?"

"Actually," she picked at the dough again. "I met him on Sunday at the Faire. He just happened across it while on holiday from England."

"England..." Sarah said with a slight grin. "So he has an accent, I take it?"

"Yeah," she said with a sheepish grin.

_I certainly don't know the appeal of _that_ particular attribute,_ thought Sarah. "I assume you did not just see him at your Faire?"

"No, we had lunch the next day at Alistair's."

Sarah had difficulty containing her surprise. "You went to Alistair's for your first date?"

"Well, sure. You know, Chris asked me practically the same thing."

"Chris knows more about him than I do?" This time, Jareth was surprised.

"Dad," Katrin rolled her eyes, "if you hadn't decided to spy on me, I probably wouldn't have told you anything about Bill until I decided you needed to meet him or something."

"What!" he indignantly exclaimed.

"Jareth, I thought you weren't going to spy on your children."

"I wasn't spying," he muttered, instantly sheepish. "I was looking for her and just happened upon the two of them."

"Oh, just ignore him. So his name is Bill?"

"Yep, apparently, his father chose the name based on a literary character he read about once."

"Oh? Which one?"

"Well," Katrin turned to her mother with another grin, "Bill is short for Fitzwilliam."

Sarah thought for a moment. "Fitzwilliam. The only Fitzwilliam I can think of is..." Suddenly her eyes widened and she turned to look at Katrin. She grabbed her daughter's hand. "Is couldn't be!"

"Yes it could!" Katrin clasped Sarah's arm excitedly.

Jareth looked suspiciously between the two. "Who?" he asked with trepidation.

"Mr. Darcy!" Mother and daughter dissolved in giggles.

"Oh, not him again." Jareth sighed. "Alright, alright. I'll leave you to it. But," he pointed at Katrin, "I expect an update long before you decide I need to meet him or something." Shaking his head, he vanished.

This, of course, succeeded in heightening the hysterics of the two women dearest to him. "Do you think he's mad?" Katrin asked when she was able to speak again.

"Nah," Sarah answered. "And if he is, I'll explain to him later. He's just worried and trying not to show it."

"Worried? Why?"

"_Why?_ You are his little girl, Kati. For all that you are twenty-three and living your own life, and Aboveground at that. Remembering too that twenty-three is still outrageously young in terms of the Fae." Sarah stroked her daughter's hair with a smile. "But don't let that worry you right now. Instead, I'll make us some hot chocolate and you," she rose and raised her eyebrows, "tell me more about this Fitzwilliam." With a laugh, Katrin happily obliged.


	32. Thirty One: Enter the Labyrinth

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

**Chapter Thirty-One: Enter the Labyrinth**

Standing behind Crinklow and Queezink in a small upstairs office at the bank, Bill stifled a yawn. _I guess I shouldn't have stayed up so late last night,_ he thought with a grin. _Though given the chance I'd do it again._ Ron had challenged him to a game of Wizard's Chess after dinner, and it turned into a minor tournament. Even Percy was convinced to participate, and, though he lost brilliantly every time, he took it all in good humor. The only thing missing, really, was the presence of Charlie, who had not managed to get away from Romania yet.

He brought his attention back to what was going on in front of him. The Goblins appeared to be waiting for something. Finally, Crinklow turned around.

"Very good, Mr. Weasley. If you are ready, we shall open the portal."

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be, sir," Bill replied, shifting his bag to a more comfortable spot. "Oh wait, I just thought of something. When will I meet the owl you spoke of?"

"He should be waiting on the other side."

"Right then. Let's do this." Paying close attention, Bill watched as the Goblins opened the portal. He felt, slightly, what happened, but if asked to duplicate it he did not think he could have managed it. All he _saw_ was a window being opened. And beyond that...

Outside, instead of seeing the sky or the roofs of shops in Diagon Alley, he saw a strange land. Immediately on the other side of the window was a stretch of hills, looking rather arid and sparse. The few trees, rocks, and bushes looked to be dusted with something sparkly. As his eyes moved past the hills and further into the distance, they widened in surprise and awe. An intricate maze stretched out almost as far as he could see. On another hill, far away, looked to be a large castle.

He stepped toward the window and rested his hand on the frame. The whole place had a strangely ominous feeling. He could tell he was being watched and weighed, and that if he made one wrong move, no one would save him. _Great,_ he thought sarcastically. _What was I thinking, agreeing to this? _But as he took a deep breath and looked around again, he sighed and shook his head. "Wow," he said under his breath. He turned back to the Goblins. They were watching him expectantly. "So I just walk through?"

Crinklow nodded. "That is correct, Mr. Weasley. Just take one step, and you will enter the Labyrinth."

"The Labyrinth? In one step I'll arrive at that maze?"

Queezink chuckled. "It is much more than a simple maze, Mr. Weasley. Whilst the Labyrinth is only a part of the Kingdom of Goblins, because of its, er, reputation and purpose most outsiders refer to the entire Kingdom as the Labyrinth. Indeed, many of those who live there speak of it thus as well."

"Oh."

A white object swooping into the vicinity and landing on a pillar interrupted their conversation. "Your owl has arrived, Mr. Weasley," said Crinklow. "It is time for us all to go our separate ways."

Bill stalled them with one more question. "What is his name?"

"His name?"

"The owl. I can't very well go on all day calling him 'hey owl'."

The Goblins exchanged looks then stared at the owl for a minute who blinked a few times in return. "Er... Christopher," said Queezink.

_Christopher... where have I heard that name recently?_ "Ok then." He straightened himself and turned to the Goblins. "I suppose I will see you when I get back."

"Yes," nodded Queezink. "Safe journey, Mr. Weasley."

"And the best of luck as well," added Crinklow.

With a wave, Bill stepped through the window. He glanced over his shoulder, but the entrance was gone. He blinked. "Huh." Turning, he walked over to the pillar with the owl. Leaning on it, he looked up. "Hi there. I'm Bill."

_He is introducing himself to an owl, _thought Christopher, tilting his head. _Strange. I've heard of talking to one's pets, but to a 'wild' animal?_ As the Wizard regarded his surroundings, Christopher in turn regarded the Wizard. He had long, red hair tied back in a ponytail and wore a billowing garment so dark blue it was almost black. It looked to be a robe of some sort, open at the front and worn as a long jacket. _Again, strange. I wonder if all Wizards wear these things. _Underneath, he had on jeans and a buttoned shirt. His boots were made of an unidentifiable material. Christopher couldn't quite place it, but it looked to be the skin of some unknown reptile. Across his shoulders, and also under the robe, was a sturdy, leather satchel with a stick poking out of one corner and under one arm was a tome resembling the one Katrin had been poring over.

_If he'd lose the robe, I'd say he looked like... an adventuresome explorer out of some popular Mortal film. _He gave a mental chuckle. _Then again, lose the robe, replace the satchel with a guitar slung across his back, he could pass for a dressed down rock musician. _That thought suddenly put him in mind of a conversation he had one night a couple of months back with his parents, Katrin, and Justin.

_"I think it is partially to do with the glamour," his mother had said. "Thinking back, I remember clearly what Jareth wore when I first met him. Indeed, what he wears whenever we go extremely formal. All that glitter and sparkles, the hair, the clothes, the walk... I can picture a horde of screaming women, thinking he's someone famous, stampeding him to rip off his clothes just to get a piece of him to keep."_

_His father gave her his classic incredulous look. "Ripping off my clothes because of what I look like?"_

_"It's happened before to musicians," she replied with a shrug._

_"Oh, geez," he said himself with a groan. "That's not an image I wanted. Just because he has cool hair doesn't make him an object of lust."_

_"Don't you listen? She said the hair in conjunction with other things. Besides, Surfer Boy," Katrin laughed, "you are one to talk, what with your fluffy hair looking like a mild version of... oh, what's his name? The guy who did the remake of 'California Girls' and was in one of the big hair bands of the 1980's? Oh yeah, David Lee Roth! Anyway, cool hair is a major factor. How many times have you had women walk up to you and, after only a few minutes, start playing with your hair, huh?"_

_"I say it's the artist factor," put in Justin quietly, returning to the topic at hand._

_"The artist factor?" asked Katrin._

_"Sure. Everyone knows girls like men who are artists. They're supposed to be more sensitive and insightful, right? Add to that the rugged masculinity of rock stars and there you go. Instant recipe for sex appeal."_

_"Well," his mother speculated, "I don't know how much of that is entirely correct, but it does have potential for reaching the answer. Though I don't particularly care you making observations about sex appeal considering you're only twelve."_

_"Where do you come up with it, Justin," he had said, ruffling his younger brother's hair. Justin shoved him away with a laugh._

_"Whatever the reason," said Katrin, poking him in the arm, "the fact remains that whenever you and Dad walk into a room dressed for Court or other formal occasions, female eyes automatically wander with extreme interest to you more than toward most other male Fae. It isn't just _looking_ the part, but you somehow adopt this aura of a performer, that charisma that draws people to you regardless of their gender. Even when you're wearing less... outrageous clothes it still happens. That you both are attractive anyway is where the sex appeal thing starts. The rock star look adds a whole other angle that intensifies it all."_

_"Are you saying, Katrin," their father asked her, "that you find the 'rock star look' attractive?"_

_She shrugged. "Sure." Then she grinned mischievously. "And Mom obviously does as well."_

_They all laughed. Then he spoke up, "I wonder if we should be keeping a closer eye on you, Kati, considering."_

_She gave him a suspicious look. "Why?"_

_"Conceivably, if it works for men, it works for women. And while we simply _look_ like rock stars, you actually are one."_

_"No I'm not," she said indignantly. "I've rarely perform rock music, and I don't even have a band."_

_"Perhaps Christopher has a point," agreed Jareth. "It might not be rock, but from what I understand you do have a fairly large following. And if someone comes along with this 'look', who knows could happen. Especially being as easily influenced as you are."_

_Katrin rolled her eyes, threw up her hands, and said, "I give up." They all laughed again and she went on her way with her brothers close behind. As he left, he heard his mother whisper to his father, "You do realize that, should the right person come along, it won't matter what 'look' he has. And, if he has the look in question, it is possible there will be no hope for her." He caught his father's sharp look out of the corner of his eye, as well as his mother's grin in return. "After all," she continued, "look what happened to me."_

Snapping back to the present, he once more looked at the Wizard. He was now flipping back and forth between a few pages of the tome containing what looked like maps of some sort.

"Well, I don't know how much help this will be, but we had better get going," Bill said.

Christopher thought at first that the Wizard was talking to himself, then he realized that Bill was actually talking to him again. _Who makes conversations with owls? Could he know? Nah... That isn't possible. He must be just a __bit odd. _Wondering what other oddities the Wizard had, he shifted his weight. He recalled his mother's comment and looked the Wizard over once more. Christopher resolved to discover what it was about the Wizard that attracted his sister, as well as to refer to him as 'Bill' rather than 'the Wizard' all the time.

"You know," Bill continued as he closed the tome and slipped it in his bag, "This place kind of gives me the creeps."

_Hmph,_ thought Christopher. _Judgemental, are we?_

"But in a freaky, thrilling sort of way, if that makes sense."

_No, not really._

"At the same time, I would have liked to visit under less dire circumstances. It sure is fascinating."

_You want to come visit the _Labyrinth_? For pleasure? Are you nuts?_

"I mean it's obviously full of dangers that I could never be told of completely in advance."

_Well, that's the truth._

"But it's so... awe inspiring. Oddly unique, filled with magic, power, and undeniably beauty."

_Hm. Maybe you aren't _all_ bad. But I still say you're a bit odd for talking to what is supposed to be a simple owl._

Bill sighed and looked up at Christopher. "Right then, let's go. It should be this way. Well, hopefully." With that, he started walking briskly down the hill in the direction of the Labyrinth and slightly to the left. Christopher launched into the air and followed.


	33. Thirty Two: The First Leg

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

**Chapter Thirty-Two: The First Leg**

It was approaching midday. Christopher perched on a scraggly branch hanging low over a large rock upon which Bill was seated, cross-legged. From his perch, he could peer over Bill's shoulder as he flipped back and forth between two sections of the tome. The few sounds to reach them from the distance were muffled, as though they were sitting in the middle of a dense forest instead of on the side of a fairly empty hill. All was still and, though some of the leaves on the tree and the corners of pages would lift occasionally, there was no wind. Such had been the way of things since they had begun their journey. Christopher was surprised at how Bill took it all in stride.

According to his father, Mortals finding their way into the Kingdom found the atmosphere just outside the Labyrinth disturbing and maddening. His mother had commented on the strangeness of it, though she said it was not maddening, simply strange. Jareth responded that this was because she began with the purpose of getting within the Labyrinth walls. Therefore, there was no need to apply excessive pressure. This particular 'spell' was aimed toward Mortals entering the Kingdom without a reason to journey to the castle, whether coming by accident or design. Such defensive measures would drive them to find a way within the Labyrinth as soon as possible. Once inside, he had continued with a rather disturbing smile, they would find enough to keep them occupied until he would decide to deal with them. Should they attempt to stay outside, they would feel the effect of Fae compulsion grow ever greater. The only prevention would be an encounter with the Goblin King himself during which he could weave the protective counter spell.

Such a spell had not been granted to Bill. Additionally, within the first ten minutes of their journey he had managed to establish that his intention was not to enter the actual Labyrinth at all. Instead, the path Bill seemed to be following would likely circumvent it entirely. He had begun approaching the walls at an angle, but abruptly changed direction to travel relatively parallel to the walls. By all accounts, he should have shown some reaction. Though the magic did not affect Christopher, he could feel it around him. Yet Bill continued without blinking an eye.

"It's strange," Bill commented, breaking the silence. "I know there is something, or perhaps are some things, around here watching us. But apart from you, I haven't seen another living creature." He sighed and looked around. "It's a pity they won't come out, really. I am terribly curious to see some of the inhabitants of this place."

_You wouldn't think that if you knew what it was that was watching you,_ thought Christopher as he shook his head in disbelief. The sound of feathers rustling drew Bill's attention and he looked up.

"I don't mean this as an insult, but I have never met an owl that was as non-communicative as yourself. Surely you must have some opinion?" Bill stared at the blinking owl. "No?"

Blink, blink.

Bill sighed again. "Ok. Maybe you're just the silent type. No pressure." He turned back toward the expanse of walls in the distance and looked around, shutting the tome and slipping it back in his bag. "Right then. Let's get going." Springing off the rock, he started off down the hill.

Christopher watched Bill's slowly retreating figure in disbelief. _Non-communicative? He actually expects a response. And why? Because he usually gets one. Thought it before, and I'll think it again: bit odd, this one._

Bill stopped abruptly and called over his shoulder. "Are you coming?" he asked with a wry grin. His grin widened at the owl's reaction. _If it had eyebrows,_ he thought,_ they would have shot up about a mile. Best case of owl indignation I've ever seen. Almost as though he isn't used to his actions being questioned or something._ Chuckling to himself, Bill continued walking.

_Am I coming. What does he think I am, some common barn owl kept as a pet or something?_ Christopher suddenly realized three things. First, even though he firmly believed that this trait of Bill talking to owls was abnormal, he was starting to get used to it. _Disconcerting, that._ Second, he was behaving like the spoiled royal Katrin often teased him of being. And third, his charge was getting away. _Damn. Give me a simple task..._ Vowing not to let anyone know of this minor event, he flew off to his normal following distance.

* * *

The early evening sun hung low in the sky, waiting to set. As every other day in the Labyrinth, everything was calm and quiet. There was a scattering of trees and shrubs, as well as a clump of large boulders, squaring off a small grassy area. Strutting about in the middle was a speckled chicken. It had gotten bored of life within the Labyrinth walls and decided to go on an adventure, ending up here. It pecked on the ground, without a care in the world.

Abruptly, it jerked its head up and, with a squawk, fluttered off to the edge of the trees as two figures came careening around the boulders. The human scrambled to the center of the boulders and pressed himself flat against them, listening intently. The owl somehow managed to wedge itself into a cranny then poked its head out, listening as well.

After a good five minutes of nothing, the sound of something large moving behind the boulders came and went. Another fifteen passed before the human and the owl visibly relaxed, human slumping to the ground, owl exiting the cranny for a more comfortable perch.

"Bloody hell. How many teeth did that... that _thing_ have?" A movement caught his eye, immediately causing him to leap to his feet in a crouch and point his wand at the trees. Suddenly realizing what was there, he blinked. "A chicken?" Eyes narrowing suspiciously, he regarded the small bird that was, once again, pecking the ground. He threw a glance at Christopher who, surprisingly, hooted in response. "All right, ye of little words," he commented, relaxing once more. "If you think it's worth the bother of vocalizing the lack of danger, I'll agree without argument."

Christopher watched as Bill leaned back and closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths. He thought about what had just happened, and how Bill had reacted to it. The muncher had come out of nowhere. Even he had not seen it coming, which was slightly worrying, truth be told. More so was that it was attempting to attack both of them. Christopher had his wings full trying to prevent being bitten or clawed, torn between getting away to transform and get rid of it and remaining a distraction long enough that Bill could get away.

Suddenly, he heard Bill shout, "Oh for crying out loud, Christopher! _Get out of the way!_" Without thinking about it, he did so, flying up and back. He looked down to see Bill facing the muncher in a fighting position, pointing a stick at it. The creature roared, baring its teeth and drooling horrendously, then advanced slowly. Bill held his ground. Knowing a little stick would do nothing against the creature, Christopher turned to dive in again. Before he could, however, Bill shouted something that sounded like Latin. The creature tried to keep walking, but its legs were suddenly extremely wobbly and it could not move properly.

Not wasting a moment, Bill turned and started to run. "Let's get out of here!" he shouted over his shoulder. In full agreement, Christopher led the way, using his position in the air to search out an appropriate hiding place.

"Well," Bill said, bringing Christopher back to the present, "I guess this is as good a place as any to take a breather and figure out where to go next, eh?" He looked around then sat up abruptly. "Hang on! I think I have an idea of where we are! Come here, look at this." Bill pulled out the tome, searched for a specific page, and then laid it open on the ground in front of him. Christopher hopped down to Bill's shoulder and peered at the page.

Pointing to a bit of text and a diagram, Bill looked at the owl on his shoulder. "See? This bit here is all about the first major point of reference to get to in order to ensure the follower of this map is on the right track. 'Stone times one and leaf times three together become grass squared.' Excessively simplistic as far as clues go, really. I would have expected better. In any case, here we are. This little picture was added by another hand, possibly Quirrell or, through him, You-Know-Who."

_I do?_ thought Christopher. _Hm. Who do I know that would give away Labyrinth secrets?_

Unaware of Christopher's rambling thoughts, Bill went on. "Though, according to this reckoning, we are severely behind schedule. At this point we should be closer to here." He turned a clump of pages and gestured at the writing and pictures. "Although, considering that I am not attempting to re-enact Quirrell's journey precisely, what with the difficulties of duplicating exact moments in time and the addition of the analytical nature of this quest, when I get to places is not as important as getting to them in the appropriate order. Right?"

Christopher fluttered off Bill's shoulder to get closer to the book. He looked from the page to Bill and back again.

Bill laughed and closed the tome. "Right. Ok, here's the plan. We'll camp here for the night. I'm going to make a fire and cook dinner while there is still enough light to do so without attracting too much unwanted attention from things like our toothy friend from earlier. You can go off and hunt for your own dinner, or go back to whomever and make your nightly report." At Christopher's startled movement, Bill grinned. "What, you think I don't know that part of the reason I get a 'guide' is to keep an eye on me? You're not exactly the best 'guide' I've ever had, not to mention the fact that I haven't been given a guide since my early days in this business. But not to worry, I don't mind. In any case, you can use this time to go off and do whatever you need to do; I promise I won't go anywhere. Though I suppose you could wait until I'm sleeping. In any case, I'll set off again shortly after sunrise so make sure you're back by then."

Christopher watched as Bill muttered more Latin based words and lit a green fire, pulling out a small cooking pot and a stack of paper packets. Mildly disconcerted about discovering he had foolishly underestimated this Wizard, and perhaps the abilities of those in the Magical Realm in general, he wondered what to do next.

"You are, of course," Bill continued, "more than welcome to share my dinner. But I warn you, quest rations are nothing to get excited about."

That decided it for Christopher. Knowing he might never get a second chance to try these 'quest rations', he opted for staying around until Bill was surely asleep. He could weave a mild monitoring spell on the area to make sure he stayed put after, but something told him that this Wizard was to be trusted. At least with keeping his promises and in regards to his job. Christopher still was not quite sure about his sister.

Once Bill had his dinner cooking, he started making camp for the night. He pulled a sleeping mat, thin blanket, and huge pillow out of his bag. Unable to contain his curiosity, Christopher hobbled over and peered inside the bag. He expected it to appear empty, but it was actually partitioned off into various sized sections, each containing an assortment of miniature things that could prove to be useful on any sort of excursion.

"Wizarding traveling spell," Bill mentioned, noting Christopher's perusal. "Some prefer the bottomless bag, but I find that you end up losing items that way. Besides, in my line of work, I usually need equipment in a hurry and cannot waste time half falling in my bag looking for things. So I opt to reduce their size and weight when on a quest for organizational purposes."

They settled into silence as Bill finished making himself comfortable. After a while, dinner was steaming and bubbling and the fire was crackling. Christopher seconded Bill's assertion regarding the lack of excitement within his rations, thinking such a comment was quite the overstatement.

After dinner, Bill pulled out a number of papers, a quill, and an inkwell. Opening the tome and flipping through the pages, he began making notes. After watching him for a few minutes, Christopher gave a mental shrug. _Oh, what the hell. It isn't as though he'd be difficult to find again. And worse comes to worst, Dad can always do his looking back in time thing._ With that, he hopped to the top of a boulder and launched himself into the air, flying swiftly toward the castle.

Bill caught Christopher's actions out of the corner of his eye and refrained from chuckling until he was gone. Staring off into the trees momentarily, he thought about the character of this owl. Seemingly reserved, he appeared to be attempting to behave as close to the Muggle idea of an owl as possible. Blatantly more intelligent and with more personality, he was not doing so great of a job. But there was something different about this owl compared to those he was used to. _Definitely more to him than meets the eye_, Bill thought. _Much like this whole place, I suppose._ Knowing dwelling on the issue would get him nowhere, he turned back to his notes.

The chicken, seriously disturbed by all these movements, conversations, and general interruptions of his adventure, decided it was not worth it and ventured off back to the Labyrinth.


	34. Thirty Three: Oh, It's You

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

**Chapter Thirty-Three: Oh, It's You**

"And that's pretty much it. Event wise, nothing out of the ordinary has happened apart from that muncher completely losing it."

"Which they have a tendency to do anyway."

"Exactly. The one odd thing I have noticed, though, is he seems to have some sort of immunity to or resistance against the Compelling Spells guarding the Kingdom. He mentioned once that he had the sensation of being watched, though whether that is because creatures were, in fact, staring or because he could feel the spell building around him and that was his reaction to it, I don't know. Whichever the case was, he did not let on that he knew there was a spell in effect."

"Hm..." Jareth leaned back in his chair and thought for a while, watching his son eat. They were sitting in the dining room alone. Sarah was with their youngest children getting them ready for bed. The two middle sons were off doing their own things somewhere in the Castle, meaning Justin was likely painting and Andreas terrorizing the guards. Katrin had returned Aboveground to go to her Faire, and would likely return during the week. He had not particularly wanted her to go yet, but she had been restless as there was nothing for her to do to help with this Wizarding business outside of research.

Jareth noticed Christopher push his plate away and brought himself back to the topic at hand. "Well," he began, "if this resistance is a common trait found in Wizards, it would explain in part why the first was able to get where he did rather than get drawn into the Labyrinth. Although, I would not have expected either of them, let alone both, to have been able to resist it completely. There are not even many Fae who have such ability. I will need to look into this matter more to discover a way to fix this hole in the Kingdom's security."

"You could probably speak to him about it for his input at some point after you meet him."

Jareth gave his son a sharp glance. "_After_ I meet him? Why would I meet the Wizard?"

_Damn._ "Oh... well... Doesn't he have to... make some sort of report of his... findings?"

"Yes, to the Goblins. After all, while I am their liege, he has no connection to me beyond being their employee."

"Oh. Right. I thought... well, I didn't think of that," he finished lamely.

"Obviously." The raised eyebrow indicated that Jareth knew Christopher had deliberately evaded the original question. _But to what end? What is he hiding?_ However, he did not push the topic. "Tell me about this Wizard, this Mortal who has won the respect and trust of Goblins such as they. Have they chosen correctly or will this entire escapade be a complete waste of time?"

"He's alright. I'm sure he'll do a fine job. I mean, he is a bit odd, truth be told, but he seems to know his stuff."

"Odd? How so?"

"Well, he keeps talking to me as though he expects me to respond at any given time. At first, I thought it was a sign of mental instability or something, that he would talk to a pile of dirt for conversation if he thought it was interested. But then I realized he actually expects me to understand him. I don't know if this is a particular quirk of his alone or if it is a trait of all Wizards. Oh, and he actually uses, get this, a _magic wand._ How cliché is that? Though I tell you, that thing packs some serious firepower. He also knows that I am there to keep an eye on him, though I don't think he realizes I am anything more than an owl. He mentioned he hasn't had a guide in years, and automatically questioned the reasoning behind him getting one. I know the whole point of me being an owl to keep him from suspecting achieved the opposite. It clued him in more than anything else. Then again, as I said before, he really seems to know what he is doing and he does it well. It might be that Bill is better at his job than the Goblins acknowledged."

Jareth nearly bolted out of his chair. He carefully schooled his expression to calm. "Bill?" he asked casually.

"What? Oh, yeah. It's his name. Oh, and something else. You know, I always heard that red heads have amazing tempers. But this guy keeps his cool better than some of the Fae I have met. Do you know, I think he could have easily taken that muncher out. But he disarmed it instead, giving us an escape route. Like he knows he is not here to display his powers and feels no need to prove anything. He's just doing his job."

Christopher continued with his observations on Bill's character, but Jareth had stopped listening. Instead, he was putting two and two together and getting four. He resisted the urge to go to the outcropping right at that moment to 'meet' Bill himself. _Just to be sure, that's all,_ a little voice whispered. _I don't need to be sure_, he replied._ I know I am right._ He felt something begin to grow in the pit of his stomach as pieces to a puzzle that had lain before him for days finally slotted into place. Suddenly, he was glad Katrin had returned Aboveground. "Does she know he is here?" he asked abruptly.

Christopher stopped mid-sentence and blinked at his father. "What?"

"Does she know he is here?"

"Who?"

"Katrin. Bill."

"No, like I'd tell-" Realization hit as to the people his father was talking about, that he was talking about them in relation to each other, as well as what such a comment implied. He quickly backtracked the conversation and figured out what had happened. _I need to learn to think before I speak when speaking with him. Sheesh. _"Er, I take it she finally told you about him then?"

Jareth waved one hand impatiently. "Yes, yes. But that is not the point. Are you certain she does not know?"

"Fairly certain. I'm the only one who knows who he is and that she has met him, well, until now. I wasn't about to miss this opportunity to check him out without her knowing, something she would have prevented if she knew."

Relief settled on Jareth like a light snowfall. "Good." He paused. "She isn't to know."

"Ok..." Christopher was bewildered. "But why not? What is the big deal?" His expression grew wary, but amused. "You aren't going to do something to him, are you?"

"Tempting, but no," he grinned.

"Then why not?"

Jareth sighed. "She's Fae. Half-blood, yes. But all of you have shown more traits pointing toward those of a full-blood Fae than any other progeny of a mixed pairing between a Fae and a Human, ever. In fact, those who don't know better assume you are full-blooded. It is as though you have no Human blood in you at all. That being the case, depending on the depth of her attachment-"

"But, Dad, they only met twice."

He cracked a wry, half grin. "She's half Fae, Christopher. And, for all intents and purposes, might as well be full-blooded. If that were the case, it would take only once. As she is..." He shrugged. Jareth could tell from his son's expression that he thought his father was overreacting. _Ah, but you do not know what signs to look for as I do. And, looking back, she displays them._

Christopher shook his head. _No way._ "You worry too much sometimes, Dad," he said as he rose from the table. "I had best get going. Say hello to Mom and the boys for me. I'll probably be back some time tomorrow to check in again." With that, he stepped to the window and, in a flash, he was flying into the distance.

Jareth remained in the empty room for a long time after that, deep in thought.

* * *

Christopher returned to the outcropping to find Bill in nearly the same position as before. The differences, really, were that there was a pile of scrolls (S_crolls? Really?_) next to him and he appeared to be farther along in the tome. By this time, night had long since fallen completely, moon and stars shrouded off and on by a heavy veil of clouds. The green fire had died to mere embers. Bill's wand was peeking out of a pocket, the tip glowing just brightly enough to read by.

"Welcome back. You were off for quite a while. I hope your dinner was more satisfying than mine," Bill said, not looking up from his writing. The quill continued to scratch softly.

Christopher felt a slight twinge of guilt at having eaten a meal fit for a prince while Bill was stuck on rations. Then he realised the Wizard was not in the least bitter or reproachful, only teasing. _Hang on,_ he thought abruptly. _Some _Mortal_ I only just met is teasing _me_? And I am allowing it to get to me?_ He hopped to a low branch on one of the scraggly bushes and fluffed himself.

Bill glanced up at the noise and his grin widened. "Hm... someone is disgruntled." He bit back a chuckle as Christopher's feathers nearly stood on end in shock.

_And again? I think I'll have to keep a closer eye on this one. Especially if he and-_ The thought was cut off as a small, fluffy, grey ball came hurtling out of nowhere. _What in the name of Oberon is that?_ It was not a creature from anywhere in the Kingdom. He prepared to transform should it decide to do something more sinister than zoom around Bill's head. While Christopher was fairly sure Bill could handle himself on his own, there was something in the way his father had been talking that made him more ready to jump into the fray.

"What the... Pig? What are you doing... Will you come down here already?"

Bill's comments drew Christopher's attention. He saw surprise and mild irritation mingle on Bill's face. _Did he just call it a pig? If that is what Wizards call pigs... what do they call... well, pigs?_ He managed to keep from falling off the branch in surprise when Bill shot up and grabbed the ball out of the air.

"Look, just hold still for two seconds so I can take the note off, alright?" Bill said to it. He fiddled with the ball for a moment before walking over to Christopher and placing it next to him. "Oh, Christopher, this is Pigwidgeon, my brother's owl. Pig, Christopher." With that, he turned away, unfolding a piece of paper from a tiny roll into a long page.

Christopher looked at the ball sitting next to him. _It's an _owl_!_ It was hooting merrily and had to have been one of the tiniest birds he had ever seen, especially for an owl. It was also giving him a strange look, as though it knew he was not all that he seemed. _But who cares about that? How did it get Underground in the first place if it is from Aboveground? And more importantly, how did it know where to find Bill?_

"Oh, Merlin." The tone of Bill's voice made both owls snap their heads around. They watched as he sank to the ground, leaning against a boulder with his eyes closed and head in one hand. The other, clutching the letter, hung limply at his side. Concerned, Christopher flew over to land on the ground next to the letter and began to read:

_Bill,_

_I know I am not really supposed to be writing to you right now, you being away on a quest and the whole top-secret thing, but something happened at home. Don't worry, no one is seriously hurt. Or even marginally hurt. And you don't need to rush home. We (me, Fred, George, and Ginny) just thought you should know before you got back so you could be prepared._

_Percy is gone. The story is really complicated, so I'll just give you the basics. He got promoted at the Ministry. When he got home this evening, he and Dad got into a huge fight. Percy started telling Dad to watch who he associates with (meaning Dumbledore and anyone who believes You-Know-Who is back). Dad told Percy he was only given the position so he could spy on his family. And Percy lost it, starting saying all kinds of things about Dumbledore and how it's Dad's fault that we are so poor. He packed up all his stuff and left and wouldn't talk to any of us._

_I've never seen Dad so angry. Mum is completely beside herself. Hopefully it will all blow over in a couple of days, but you know Percy. He's so, well, Percy. And after he left, Dad told us that we would all be leaving soon. Hermione is going to come out, she was planning on spending the rest of the summer with us and she and I were hoping Harry could come too. But I guess as soon as she arrives, we are going to leave. They won't tell us where, or what is going on, but Fred and George overheard them say something about unlikely spots and bursting into flames. Do you know what that means?_

_I know you can't come now, and I don't want you to rush, but I sure hope you get back soon. Mum is worried about you now more than ever because of You-Know-Who and we all want you in one piece no matter when you get here._

_I hope Pig found you ok. He isn't as practiced as Errol, but he's probably more reliable at this point. Please send him back as soon as you can. We want to owl Charlie before Mum realises what we did._

_See you soon, _

_Ron_

Christopher leaned back, away from the letter. He did not quite understand what all the letter was about. _Those people are obviously his family... but who is this You-Know-Who person? Bill mentioned him earlier as well, didn't he? Does he not have a name?_ Confused, and worried about how Bill was dealing with the news about this Percy fellow, Christopher turned to look at the Wizard. He was mildly surprised to find Bill watching him with an amused expression.

"So the owls of the Immortal Ones can read, eh?" he asked. "I wonder what other tricks they teach you."

_Tricks? You have no idea..._ As Christopher went back to his perch on the bush, he watched Bill out of the corner of one eye. The Wizard had picked up a piece of parchment and a quill, hastily writing something. He assumed it was a reply to the letter, for when Bill was done he attached it to Pig's leg and sent the tiny owl on his way.

As Pig disappeared into the night sky, Christopher continued watching Bill. He was quietly repacking his bag. When he was finished, he flicked his wand at the sleeping mat he took out earlier and the whole thing unfolded to reveal a thick mattress, more fluffy pillows, and sleeping bag. Christopher couldn't help it; he hooted in surprise.

"Just because I'm way out here 'roughing it' doesn't mean I have to be uncomfortable," Bill told the owl as he lay down on top of the sleeping bag. He kicked off his boots the folded his hands under his head. The moon had begun to peek through the clouds, casting its silvery light down upon them. A few stars would blink through now and again as well, though they looked nothing like the constellations he was used to. Once again, he was fairly awestruck at the things he was seeing. "I can scarcely believe this is real," he said in a low voice. "I mean, I know it is because I am here, but I've grown up being told this place doesn't exist.

"And this thing with Percy... I can't believe that either." He paused. "No, that isn't entirely true. He's always been extremely ambitious, and that can impede his sense of judgement. But to discredit the possibility of You-Know-Who when-" Bill stopped and rolled to one side, propping himself on one elbow. He peered at Christopher. "Hang on. _Do _you know who?" He received a blank stare from the owl. "I suppose the more appropriate question is do you even care? It probably won't affect you directly, as an owl."

_You'll go in owl form, he said. The Wizard won't see you as anything but an owl, he said. You won't raise questions but still be able to get information, he said. Yeah, right. This conversation would be ten times easier to have if I could actually respond,_ Christopher thought. _And I don't think I'm really fooling him as much as was hoped, either._

Bill rolled onto his back once more. "Well, I guess there's no reason not to. If, by some chance, you are actually on the wrong side, you probably already know I am not. If you are on the right side, great. And if you haven't heard, you might as well since my being here is because of it." Bill launched into a quick retelling of Voldemort's rise to power and his defeat by Harry Potter. He then summarized the events of the past four years leading to the return of Voldemort. As he listened, Christopher wondered how aware his father was of this situation. He also noticed that Bill only said the name once.

"So now he is back. Some Wizards believe it, others don't. I'm sure most of them just don't want to believe because it was such a horrific time back then. No one _wants_ him to be back, except for his supporters, and denial is a comfortable state. But how can Percy be such a, well, a git? Poor Mum."

Christopher tried to imagine what would happen if he or one of his siblings were to alienate the family like that. _I'm not even going to go there,_ he decided._ Minor wars have broken out for lesser reasons than that. But I don't get why they don't use his name. Unless there is some magic connected with it, but that sounds more like Fae magic than what I have seen Bill use. Not that I am all that much of an expert on this Wizarding stuff._

Bill had fallen silent for a while, so Christopher thought he might have fallen asleep. He was just about to doze off as well when Bill's voice came through the dark.

"You know, I think when I get back from this mission, I am going to put in a request for a desk job back at Gringotts. I never thought I would actually do that willingly while I was still able to be out in the field. But I would be more helpful to the... er, family if I was in England. And it would be better at a time like this not to travel at all since- Oh... No travel means I won't be finishing my holiday in the States."

_So?_ Christopher thought sleepily._ What does that have to do with it? From the sound of it, this is pretty important stuff._

"See, I got called back home from there to go on this quest. And I had just met this girl... Her name is Katrin and she's... wow."

His ears perked up, and Christopher was suddenly alert. _Oh, this should be good._

"She's just great," Bill continued, not realizing the new subject was far more interesting to his owl companion than any other discussed so far. "Smart, funny, talented, beautiful. And when she smiles..."

_What? What happens when she smiles?_

"She's kind of crazy..."

_What? What does that have to do with her smiling? And what do you mean she's crazy?_

"... I mean, she spends all summer dressing up as a sixteenth Century minstrel..."

_Oh, yeah. That's a good point; she is a bit weird when it comes to those sorts of things._

"But I've never met anyone so... alive before. It's like she's completely charged with energy or something."

_It's this thing called 'Magic'. Perhaps you've heard of it?_ Christopher smirked._ All part of being a Fae, really. So, back to what happens when she smiles..._

"We only met twice, and all we did was talk..."

_I should hope that is all you did!_

"... for a few hours. But I feel as though we have known each other for ages. And I almost told her so many times."

_Huh? Told her what? Argh, this is frustrating._

"Somehow, I got the feeling that she wouldn't mind at all either, you know?

_No, I don't know! _Christopher twitched in mild irritation. _This has to be the most difficult conversation I have ever had. Even compared to when Kati has decided to tell me something but won't flat out say it._

"I mean, I've heard stories about the way some Muggles, that's non-Magical folk, reacted when they found out their partners are Wizards or Witches. Usually it is fine, but some Muggles are really bothered by it."

Christopher's branch began shaking mildly as he laughed an owl laugh. _I doubt that Katrin will be bothered by the fact that you do magic, my friend. But how will _you_ react to her _being_ magic?_

"Oh, who am I kidding? I don't know how this could possibly work."

_What? And why not? Do you think my sister would be that judgmental?_

"What kind of relationship can be built through two meetings and that email stuff?" He paused again. "And yet, I know that if we meet again..."

As Bill trailed off, thinking, Jareth's words from earlier came back to Christopher. _"She's Fae... it would take only once." I wonder if the same is true for Mortals. Or just Wizards..._ He mulled over it for a bit, thinking about the implications. _But if that is the case... why is he being so... so... insecure about it?_

A deep sigh from Bill drew his attention once again. "No, I don't think there is any way I could stop myself from pursuing something with Katrin, far away as she is. It might just have to wait until this whole thing with You-Know-Who is resolved." He paused. "The dilemma, Christopher, is that this whole thing with You-Know-Who only makes me want to see her _now_ even more. Once I get actively involved in opposing him, the likelihood of my becoming a target increases. How do I explain that one? 'I'd like to see you again, but if I don't contact you, don't take it personally. It probably means I'm either dead or have been injured beyond belief.' Yeah, that one will go over _really_ well." He sighed again, and then laughed a short, bitter laugh. "Well, now that I've talked your ear off on this horribly depressing topic, I think I'll go to sleep now to prevent further wallowing in misery and self-pity."

This time, Bill's silence lasted and Christopher could hear his breathing slow. As an owl that was not really an owl, his need for sleep was different than may have been expected. He though about heading back to his bed in the Castle, but figured that might not be the best idea. As he settled himself for the long night, slowly drifting off, his thoughts remained on the things Bill had told him, and how they would affect his sister when she heard about them as well. His last waking thought was, once again, an echo of his father's words: _"She's Fae... all of you have shown more traits pointing toward those of a full-blood Fae... That being the case, depending on the depth of her attachment-". _Mingled with that thought was a wish that he had allowed his father to finish the statement.


	35. Thirty Four: Greensleeves Again?

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

**Chapter Thirty-Four: Greensleeves Again?**

Katrin was honestly not sure whether she should laugh, cry, or slap herself silly at the ridiculousness of it all. Unlike many of her fellow Faire performers, specifically the musicians, she harbored no great animosity toward the song. As she did with just about every song she played, she would play with twisting the melody and improving around it now and again. Even so, this was one she took pleasure in playing straight, one of a few quaint little Tudor numbers she had up her sleeves that most patrons could easily recognize as 'period'. In fact, though she was loath to admit it publicly in Faire company, she actually _liked_ the song. She found it sweet and tender yet morbidly depressing all at the same time. Be that as it may, there were countless others she would rather play. Thus she never did play it except upon request, something done only a handful of times each season since she began playing the circuit.

At least, until today.

Everywhere she turned, during her scheduled gig times or not, someone would request to hear the song. She could not go two minutes into her half hour sets before someone would ask for it, and not ten minutes more before someone else would duplicate the request. Every time she turned a corner when wandering around, some patron or other would recognize her as a minstrel, likely due to the guitar slung across her back, and would plead for an impromptu performance right there. She was fairly certain the tavern wenches and half the merchants were starting to twitch whenever they saw her. By the end of the day, some of them had taken to enlisting the aid of her 'sworn protectors' to keep anyone from speaking to her at all. Then, after hours, when everything should have gone back to normal, it was the children and newbies wandering around who wanted to hear it.

The irony lay in the fact that this song was the very one Christopher caught her playing endlessly only a few nights before. It was also, admittedly, the same one she played for days on end all those years ago when she fell victim to what she termed as 'first crush syndrome'. No one knew what special significance this particular song held for Katrin and, since they never bothered to ask, she never bothered to tell them that it had none. It was simply one of the only songs she was able to play at the time. As the years went by, she would play it whenever she had a serious issue to consider. However, astute even in her younger days, she avoided playing it around her family knowing they would automatically associate it with the first time they heard it. Why she ended up playing it at home earlier that week she was not entirely sure. But after today's events, Katrin began to feel as though someone or something somewhere was playing a practical joke on her.

"And I am most certainly not amused," she grumbled.

"Amused at what?"

The unexpected voice came from behind a tree and Katrin barely restrained herself from jumping out of her garb in fright. Willing her breathing back to normal she peeked around the tree in question. Ector, for all that he appeared to have his hands full with a young peasant lass, peered back at her expectantly. Recovering, she responded, "Actually, it is not what I am amused _at_, but what I am _not_ amused at."

"Oh," he paused. "Well, then _not_ amused at what?"

Katrin suppressed a grin at the glint of impatience in the eyes of the wench. _Ector, Ector, Ector. You need to work on your sense of timing._ Aloud, she merely said, "At the number of times I have had to play that song today."

Ector looked confused. "That song?"

"Yes."

"Oh," he paused again. "What song?"

_What song? You're kidding..._ "'Greensleeves', of course."

"That was you?" The wench looked at her with pity. "I heard about that, but I didn't think it was true. My sympathies."

This time, Katrin did not bother hiding her grin. "Grammercy."

"What's wrong with 'Greensleeves'?" The impatience returned to the wench's eyes as she sighed and looked at Ector, seeming ready to launch into a detailed explanation of the various evils of that particular composition.

Katrin decided this would be an opportune moment to retreat and continued on her way, waving over her shoulder at Ector's farewell.

In order to avoid running into any more people, Katrin took the back way to her tent. In doing so, it ended up taking fifteen more minutes than it should have. Finally, she was able to dump her instruments on her mat and zip the opening shut behind her. Reaching up, she turned on the small, battery operated, Coleman lantern hanging from the apex of the tent poles. It filled the tent with light and she began organizing everything in preparation for bed. Though she was not nearly ready to go to bed, she knew that when one returns from the after hours parties the last thing one wants to worry about is stepping on a bodice, bodkin, or bodhran. In fact, the only thought process one wants to have is something along the lines of: 'Unzip tent opening. Fall in tent. Zip tent opening from landing spot. Vaguely wonder if alarm is set for the morning. Sleep.' At least, so the theory went, though the reasons for it varied depending on the person. A great many would enjoy the fruit of the vine, juice of the barley, and wee pint upon pint just a bit too much. Others never really stopped working until long past everyone else finally went to bed. Then there were the people like Katrin who would end up playing, talking, telling stories, and laughing hysterically at various encampments until the fires died and even the noisy people would tell them to be quiet.

As she moved her bag, however, Katrin's gaze lit upon the large tome from the Goblins. What possessed her to bring it on site she could not even begin to guess. All she knew was that as she packed her bags she got a strong and insistent feeling that it should not be left behind at her apartment. She had long since learned from experience that such feelings should not be ignored as a general rule of precaution. _I'm surprised it didn't want to be carted around all day,_ she thought sardonically as she stared at the tome where it lay nestled among her pillows.

All day, apart from the 'Greensleeves' dilemma, Katrin had been able to push into the back of her mind all her worries and concerns about the events that transpired over the past week. Yet, the longer she stared at the book, the more those thoughts came rushing back to the forefront. Suddenly she was no longer all that enthusiastic to join the rest of the revelers.

Instead, she reached out and traced the edge of the leather-bound volume. Kneeling before it, she looked down, eyes half-lidded. "Riddles and mysteries. Why don't you make this easy on all of us and just tell me your secrets, eh?" With a sigh, she flipped open the cover and turned to a random page near the center of the book. She looked closely at the markings and sketches. Nothing looked familiar. Nothing looked remotely informative. "Heh. Nothing. Now there's a shocker." With another sigh, she closed the tome and, snatching it up in her arms, she flung herself back on her pillows clasping the cumbersome thing to her chest.

Closing her eyes, she let her mind wander over everything that had happened, everything she had discovered... and everything she still had not even begun to understand.

She was not sure how long she lay there, attempting to make some sense of it all. But it was some time later when she was brought back to reality by the sound of people talking outside the tent, loud enough so that anyone a short distance away could hear. From the sound of it, they were trying to whisper but were just drunk enough to not realize they were failing at it. Miserably. "Do you think she's in there?"

"Well, sure. Where else would she be?"

"True, we looked everywhere else."

"So call her out, already."

"Right - oh... what if she isn't in there by herself?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know, not alone."

"Yeah, so?"

"But, I mean, well, _romantic_ like..."

There was a pause. And then an uncomfortable cough. She could have sworn she heard feet scuffing the earth. Then, "Yeah, like _that_ would ever happen," and a few chuckles.

_Hey now,_ Katrin thought indignantly. _What, exactly, is _that_ supposed to mean?_

"Good point," the voices continued in their debate. "I'll just see if she's in there."

"Wait!"

"Now what?

"Well, maybe you should knock first. You know, just in case."

"Knock?"

"Yeah."

"On a tent?"

"Um... yeah?"

Another pause. "Oh. Well, I guess that makes sense."

One of the people outside her tent hit the wall a few times, shaking the whole thing violently. She looked up and watched her lantern sway. "You do realize that if my tent collapses in the slightest, I will come after you with a vengeance."

"I told you she was in there."

"Shut up. Hey, Kati, are you awake?"

She grinned. "If I say no, will you go away?"

There was a pause for the third time. "Um... no?"

"Well then, yes, I am awake."

"Excellent!"

Someone began opening her tent flap. She raised an eyebrow and was about to make a comment about the fact that she might not be decent when she heard some muttering something about double checking to make sure.

"Ok, fine. Are you alone, Kati?"

Her grin widened. "If I say no, will you go away?"

"Uh... s-sure..."

"Then no."

After a bit of sputtering and the sound of a great deal of scrambling, her tent was yanked wide open to reveal a Scot, a privateer, and a peasant, each with bare steel in hand, a Puritan brandishing a tankard, and a second peasant simply gazing to the sky with a pained expression on his face.

"Fiend!" exclaimed the privateer. "Take thy mangy hands off her, thou cur!

"Thou rogue!" added the Puritan.

"Thou rrrandy excuse fer a rrreal man!" put in the Scot.

The first peasant waved his dagger and, not to be outdone, began emphatically, "Thou... thou... uh..."

"Thou fine crew of blinking idiots?" suggested the unarmed peasant. At the incredulous looks his companions gave him, he shook his head. "As I suggested earlier, no one is in there except Katrin," he dryly informed them.

They looked at him. Then looked in the tent. Then looked more closely in the tent. Then looked at Katrin, who sat there fairly bursting from the strain of keeping her laughter in. She could see the mild embarrassment overcome the confusion as realization and understanding slowly hit home. "Lose something?" she asked, innocently, as each one of them averted his gaze.

The only one who met her eyes was the peasant who demonstrated capability of thought. "Aye," he responded. "Apparently you, actually. Everyone was wondering if you were planning on coming to the party and they were sent to fetch you."

"They? And you accompanied them as what, the designated walker?"

"I believe the idea was that I would be able to prevent irrational behavior. Though I seem to have underestimated my capabilities against such staunch devotion."

She giggled. "Indeed."

"In any case, would the good lady care to be escorted to the party?"

Katrin rose. "After such an involved, eloquent, and drawn out invitation, how could I refuse?" _I may as well. I still have yet to find anything resembling an answer to anything. Nothing beats a night leading to befuddlement to clear the head..._

With her positive response, the other four men seemed to perk up. "Don't forget your instruments, Kati," said the Puritan.

"Yes!" agreed the privateer. "And when we get there, do you think you could play 'Greensleeves'?"

The second peasant emitted a groan that exuded incredulity while the others nodded eagerly. Katrin could do naught but laugh as she grabbed her fiddle, sealed her tent once more, and headed away from the camping area toward a night of music, dancing, and merry-making.


	36. Thirty Five: Ere the Sun Doth Rise

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

**Chapter Thirty-Five: Ere the Sun Doth Rise**

Night in the Labyrinth truly was an eerie thing. And for Bill, that was saying something. He was no stranger to weird situations, surrounded by magical objects that preceded recorded history. But this... The magic inhabiting this place was older than any he could imagine and equally foreign. It brought new meaning to the word discomfort.

It would not let him rest.

He had experienced his share of sleepless nights, and then some, and he knew how to function on minimum hours. The key lay in convincing the body it actually was asleep, for all that the mind would be racing. Come morning, or whenever he would rise, he would be rested enough.

But here, something would not allow it.

It was strange, actually. That first night, he had fallen asleep easily enough - once he had stopped talking to Christopher, that is. But at some point a few hours before sunrise, he awoke with a start and with a deeply unsettled feeling. The last time he remembered waking thus was one morning when, in his sleep, he had the sudden awareness that someone was watching him. Sure enough, when he opened his eyes, Ginny was staring at him unblinkingly, her face not three inches from his own. Scared him witless. So it always was when he awoke like that.

This time, however, no face greeted his abruptly opened eyes. No visitors were in the campsite. Even Christopher was asleep. He lay back down after a bit and tried to go back to sleep, and that is when he heard it.

Or rather, _didn't_ hear it. The Labyrinth was utterly silent. No insects chirruping, no rustling of leaves indicating nocturnal animals, nothing. It was as though the entire place had taken a deep breath and forgotten to let it out.

He lay there, wide awake and certain he was being watched intently, until the first rays of light shooting up from the horizon indicated the sun had begun to rise. Feeling there was no point in continuing to feign sleep, he got up with a heavy sigh and got on with the day.

The watching continued all day, though not constantly. It was more like he was being periodically checked up on. The thing was, it never happened when anything of import was happening, only when very little was happening. As he trekked from one point to the next, for example, or when he stopped to get his bearings.

He would have thought he had imagined it all, that the pressure of this particular quest compounded with the stress of events in the Wizarding world - _Magical Realm,_ he reminded himself - was starting to make him jumpy, perhaps signaling an imminent breakdown. It had happened to some of the best Curse Breakers, after all. Why not him? His only reassurance otherwise could be found in Christopher, who seemed to become aware of this watching as well shortly before midday.

It was the second time Bill felt it after it had initially gone away. He was crouched behind a rock, the tome lay open at his feet and he muttered to himself as he flicked back and forth between two pages. Suddenly, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Popping his head up like a garden gnome, he rapidly looked around. Seeing nothing, again, he crouched down once more to lean against the rock. A quick glance at Christopher, who perched on a tree - though it was not so much a tree as a single branch sticking out of the ground - next to the rock, told him the owl was not as unaware as he had previously supposed.

Christopher sat on the branch, his feathers in disarray. He was looking around as well, which Bill found to be both a comfort and rather disconcerting. When he caught Bill looking at him, he settled down again as though nothing had happened. Bill had never before seen an owl capable of pulling an innocent expression, but this one had it nailed down pat. With a dubious, "Hm," he ignored the situation and trudged on to the next spot.

Every time it happened after that, Bill looked at Christopher to see his reaction. The owl consistently became more and more irritated with each occurrence. By the time they had stopped for the day and made camp, Christopher's feathers were sticking straight out and he kept shuffling up and down whatever he happened to be perched on as though he was pacing. Humorous though the sight might have been in other circumstances, seeing this did not do much for Bill's peace of mind; he could not imagine what could possibly be out there that would irritate an owl to such an extent.

However, Bill was able to take some comfort in knowing whatever was going on was not a merely a figment of his own imagination. Though, to be fair, he was growing less concerned the more he thought about it. Christopher was not acting frightened or nervous, merely excessively frazzled. Whatever this watching was, it was a source of great annoyance. And, in truth, that was exactly what Bill felt as well. Not threatened, or pressured even, just bothered.

Dinner that night was a silent affair, Bill not really feeling like talking much without knowing if the mysterious voyeur could hear as well as see what was going on. In any case, he did not think Christopher wanted to be interrupted; he had graduated from irritated to what Bill took for sulking. And he was being rather stoic about it as well, as though refusing to leave as he had done the previous night out of sheer stubbornness. Contemplating _that_ raised more questions than Bill had answers for, so he tried to ignore the owl as much as he tried to ignore the unseen eyes.

So there he lay, wide awake all night. Unlike during the day, when the watching would come and go, in the stillness - the complete stillness - of the night in the Labyrinth, it carried on. He would sigh heavily now and again, casting a look at Christopher who was glaring stonily out into the night, and sigh again, attempting to content himself with gazing at the unfamiliar night sky.

Then, abruptly, it happened.

About an hour or two before sunrise, the watching stopped. Having grown accustomed to it, though it was a begrudging acceptance, Bill sat up in surprise. Wondering what his reaction would be, he immediately looked at Christopher.

The owl looked back at him, steadily. Bill would have sworn he nodded solemnly, and then he launched into the air. Bill watched as Christopher flew around the campsite once in a wide, swooping circle before flying off somewhere in the distance. When the form of the bird became a speck and then vanished, Bill lay down once more.

"Well," he said to the once again silent Labyrinth, though it now lacked the excessively bothersome feel, "since I'm supposed to have an owl companion, I had best not leave without him." That said, he settled down, and finally fell asleep.

* * *

Sarah sat in the nursery appearing to watch Michael sleep and waiting for the sun to announce the new day. Once upon a time, she would have said it was far too early to even consider being awake. Since coming to live in the Labyrinth, however, time had taken on a new meaning.

She discovered that in the Underground, the Mortal conception of time was irrelevant. In the Underground, time was not bound to the cycle of the moon or the planets circling the sun. Instead, it served the whims of those controlling the magic of the lands. Each Kingdom ran separately within their boundaries as deemed by their rulers; only the High King and Queen held the power and the privilege to overrule these decisions.

It was a difficult concept to grasp and could only be understood when she threw out all the rules of logic and physics taught to her over the years. They scarcely applied here regularly in any case. But for all that she was now bound to Jareth and, through him, the magic and cycles of this Kingdom, Sarah still held the ways of her Mortal existence deep in her heart for it was intrinsic to her very being. Though she had left it behind, it would always call to her. At times, she could feel the collision of these two rather incompatible worlds within her, their conflict sweeping over her in grand waves to leave loneliness and uncertainty in their wake.

When she first came, the only comfort to be found was in the arms of her beloved. Yet, as their time together continued, their lies intertwining in an intricate dance, she discovered equal solace in the presence of their children. In them, she saw both herself and Jareth reflected back at her. They were constant reminders of the strength of their love for each other, of the legacy being created. She knew that, no matter what happened, this would remain.

So it was now. She had not slept easy, in truth she could not have said whether she had slept at all. Jareth had not come to bed this night; he remained in the study, brooding over the reality that, for all that he was King of the Goblins and a powerful Fae, not all aspects of his life could be controlled by his will. Namely, she knew, the situations surrounding their daughter. Katrin had too much of Sarah's obstinate stubbornness and too much of Jareth's proud arrogance to ever allow herself to be controlled by another, even if that person was her father. _No,_ Sarah thought,_ she will rule herself. As is well within her right. But he always did have difficulty relinquishing that control._ At that thought, a wistful and nostalgic smile graced her lips.

She wished he would confide in her though. Sarah knew she only had to ask him and he would tell her all that bothered him, but she did not want to have to ask. And, at the moment, he was too caught up in his own thoughts, in the task of processing this newly developed challenge. So she would be patient, another thing she had learned with great difficulty. As time for her husband did not move in conjunction with her own internal clock of seconds, minutes, and hours, he likely would not realize the strain waiting was causing her until after the fact. After the length of their union, these occurrences were rare and infrequent. But there would ever come moments in which he would forget that she was not Fae born, much as she would have her own moments of forgetful insensitivity expecting him to behave as a Mortal. They would be understanding and forgiving, but this did not lessen the frustration with waiting for it to pass.

Her thoughts wandered away from the present as she reflected upon moments passed. Abruptly, she felt a whisper of affection run down the bond constantly linking them together. By the nature of its feel, she knew he was not thinking at her but about her, nevertheless she smiled and wrapped herself in the warm glow of it. Then, without warning, she felt him go Aboveground.

Sarah rose, her brow furrowed. _This isn't like him_. She went to the window and gazed out at the Labyrinth. It was still shrouded in night, with random twinkling lights indicative of the various inhabitants going about their business in the early hours. Sunrise was only about an hour or two away, but stars still shone ever brightly and the moon remained high in the sky. She thought of when Jareth decided upon the appearance of night, how he played with it now and again and usually for her own amusement. As she looked at the moon, the moon that _should_ have been low on the horizon by her reckoning, she saw a shadow against it, growing as it approached at quite some speed. Her brow furrowed even more as she looked at it before her eyes widened in surprise with the recognition of the form.

"Christopher?" she whispered, hastening to unlock the window. "_What_ is going on?"

* * *

It was early Sunday morning Aboveground. Katrin had a vague sense on the edge of her awareness that someone was calling her name. But it sounded strange, as though coming at her through a layer of cotton. Her initial thought was that if she ignored it, it might just go away. Instead, the sound became more persistent. She waved a hand and muttered, "Go 'way," subsequently getting a mouthful of fleece. At the sound of a rather familiar chuckle, she blearily opened one eye. Though she knew to whom the chuckle belonged, it shocked her to see a shadowy outline of her father crouched in her tent and leaning on her guitar case. She bolted up into a sitting position and immediately regretted it. With a moan, she leaned forward until her forehead hit the blanket. At another hearty chuckle from her father, she turned her head and glared at him. "Shut up."

"Now, Katrin, is that any way to greet your loving father?"

"Eh, whatever. I was actually working on sleeping off the worst part of a hang over, Dad, and would prefer to get back to it rather than engage in another thrilling exchange of wit; so, couldn't this wait until I'm a bit more capable of doing the cognitive thinking thing. Say, tomorrow when I come home?"

"Not really." Amusement coated his voice. "I actually wanted to let you know that you needn't come home this week if you don't want to."

"Wh... wh..." She thought her face was going to fall off as she yawned. "Why not?"

He shrugged. "There really is no need, is there? You can just as easily read through the tome in your apartment as in the castle, and you'll likely get bored at home otherwise. Plus you have the rest of the season to finish in any case, right?"

"Yes, that's true." Something about the logic of this conversation did not quite sit right with Katrin, but, as her brain was not processing at even a quarter of its normal speed, she just ignored it. "So, just to get this straight, you don't want me to come home at all this week?"

"Well, of course I _want_ you to come home, but I would prefer you doing it when you are not going to be moping about all the time."

"Uh, ok then. I guess." She blinked at him a few times, wondering if that would stop him from looking quite as much like a fuzzy blur, but to no avail. This did not prevent her from seeing a smirk appear on his face, albeit a fuzzy smirk.

"Is something amiss, Kati?"

"Yes," she grumbled. "I'm awake."

She groaned at the sound of his rich laughter. "All right. I shall go and leave you to suffer in peace. I hardly need add that this would be the ideal time for a lecture on over-indulgence."

Katrin closed her eyes again. "Oh, go away, Dad." When there was no scathing comeback in response to her own ineloquent retort, she cracked an eye again. Satisfied she was alone once more, she slowly maneuvered herself back to a sleeping position and closed her eyes with the intent of returning to the state she blissfully inhabited not ten minutes before.

After laying there for a few minutes listening to the sound of frogs, she realized sleep was not going to oblige her with another visit and decided that, since she was now wide awake mentally, she may as well attempt to get to a fully functional state. The first step, of course, was to discover the time, thereby knowing how slowly she would be able to move. Flinging one hand out, she felt around for her travel alarm clock. Grasping the small box at last, she pulled it close to her face and squinted at it, trying to press the button to turn on the backlighting.

"Aaah!" The sight of '5:37' shining merrily at her rendered her momentarily blind. As the light faded out, what time the clock read registered in her mind. "Five-thirty A.M.?" She bolted upright again, again instantly regretting it. This time, she stayed upright until her head caught up with the rest of her body. She began muttering as she fumbled for her electric Coleman. "Ugh. What the blazes is he thinking waking me up this early? The blasted water truck hasn't even been through to wet down the roads and the honey-bucket people haven't been by either. And I only went to bed a few hours ago! There's something very fishy about this whole thing. Not that I have a clue what it is yet." She sighed heavily as she shut her eyes again before turning on the lantern. Even behind lowered lids the brightness made her wince. She sat there, becoming accustomed to the light, listening to the frogs again. "Huh. I didn't even know there were frogs at this site. The things you learn when you are awake before sun comes up."

Not entirely willing to venture out of her tent before dawn broke completely based on a rather sudden and irrational worry that she would encounter one of the frogs in the dark, she set herself the task of tidying up her tent. Very, very slowly. Her goal was to find some bottled water, aspirin, and her toothbrush. She knew all of these things were floating around somewhere, but she was not entirely sure where each of them lay. She had taken them out when she returned to her tent after leaving the party, but where they ended up after that she could not remember. Certain they were around somewhere, she continued the search.

It was not until a few hours later, after the sun had risen and her teeth were brushed, that she realized what was fishy about her father's early morning visitation: he had come in person.


	37. Thirty Six: Stop Looking At Me

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

**Chapter Thirty-Six: Stop Looking At Me**

As he neared the castle, Christopher watched a window to the nursery open. Certain the only one who would do such a thing at this hour was his mother, he headed straight for it. Sure enough, she stood there waiting with her hand upon the latch, ready to close it behind him as soon as he entered.

After he transformed, he turned and faced her, marveling at the way serenity graced every aspect of her countenance. The concern in her eyes was only visible to him because he knew what to look for. He wished he could bring her news of reassurance, though he was not entirely sure what aspect of recent events weighed most heavily on her mind. However, he also knew the value of brevity and expediency, so he jumped right into what he wanted to talk about. "He's gone Aboveground, hasn't he?"

"Keep your voice down, Christopher." The gentle rebuke was quiet. "You'll wake the baby. And yes, he has gone Aboveground." As she spoke, Sarah motioned for Christopher to follow her and crossed the room to the unobtrusive door leading to her and Jareth's bedroom. Once both were inside, she shut the door.

"Haven't been here in awhile. Not since Michael was born, anyway."

"Yes, well, it was either here or the hallway. And while Goblins are not prone to gossip as much as humans, I still prefer the privacy. Sit down, dearheart. You may as well make yourself comfortable. I don't know where your father went precisely - though I assume he is off harassing your sister - and I don't know when he'll be back." She settled herself into an old overstuffed armchair that was in such dire need of repair the patches wanted patching.

Christopher flopped down on a footstool. "Are you ever going to let Dad get you a new chair?"

"Not any time soon. That would ruin the game."

He shook his head. "Of course. Anyway, I'm not really wanting to talk to Dad."

"No?"

Christopher looked at his mother at her use of a politely surprised tone. If her expectant expression was any indication, she had been waiting for him to get to that particular point since he arrived. "Well, no. So, um... Could you do me a favor?"

She smiled. "That depends on what the favor entails."

"Right. I was hoping you could, er," he paused, searching for the right words, "_convince_ Dad that he really doesn't need to watch us so attentively."

"By 'us' I assume you mean you and the Goblin representative."

_Hm... I guess that means Dad didn't tell her about Bill, then._ "Yes."

"And your father has been watching you."

"Yes." Sarah remained silent for a moment, and Christopher watched as suspicion clouded her eyes. _So that's where Katrin gets it from,_ he thought.

"Just as a guess," she finally said, slowly, "his watching started at some point early yesterday morning -"

"Not just early morning but before sunrise."

Sarah continued as though she had not been interrupted. "- and continued on and off all day, yes?"

"Yes." Christopher rolled his eyes in complete exasperation. "And always at the stupidest moments, too. I mean, he'll probably say that he was just making sure we weren't getting into trouble, but then why only watch when we were just sitting there or -" He stopped abruptly and looked at Sarah. "Hang on. How did you know that?"

Sarah leaned back in the chair and pressed the tips of her fingers together before her face. "Your father has been sulking for the past few days, as you may or may not have noticed. Then, yesterday morning, he started behaving rather suspiciously. Hiding away in the study for various lengths of time and then coming out again as though nothing is going on, all the while apparently keeping a watchful eye on you. It's rather infuriating."

"Tell me about it."

"I'll speak to him about it, but..."

After a brief sigh, Sarah was momentarily silent once again. This time, however, she had tilted her head slightly and was regarding him with mild curiosity. Christopher was not sure about this. "But?"

"But I am curious as to why he feels the need to watch you at all, especially considering he had previously established that you are more than capable to handle this on your own."

"Er..."

"Don't you find it curious, Christopher?"

"Well... You know Dad, always up to something."

"Indeed. Perhaps he just wants to keep an eye on things, make sure that you are all right. You are his son, after all. And this situation is less than safe."

"Uh, yeah, that's probably it."

"So why would it bother you so much?"

"Well... it's like you said. He shouldn't _need _to watch me at all if he thinks I can handle this. It isn't so much that he is watching, really, but you know how he is. Dad doesn't just keep an eye on things. When he looks out over the Labyrinth, everything in the vicinity is aware of it. And it's so damn irritating to feel like you've got a pair of eyes boring into the back of your head anyway, to add the knowledge that it's _Dad..._ It makes me want to pull out my hair. Or molt, I guess, considering. To be fair, I am more annoyed by the principal of the thing." He paused, briefly, before thinking aloud. "It's funny that it annoys me so much when it isn't really me that Dad is watching. But though the Wizard knows he is being watched, it hasn't been affecting his performance at all." He nodded, slowly. "Yeah, Bill's an ok guy."

_Bill!_ Sarah's mind began racing. "Bill?" she said aloud.

"What? Yes, that's his name..." Christopher trailed off, hit with a sudden sense of deja vu. _Damn, I think I did it again. _He watched as his mother swiftly put two and two together. She looked at him, clearly waiting for confirmation of some sort. He sighed. "I was hoping to leave him out of this, actually. Didn't mean to tell you."

"Ah. I assume that your father knows about this."

"Er, yeah. To be fair, I didn't mean to tell him either, cause I figured something like this would happen. And before you ask, no, Katrin doesn't know her Bill is this Bill."

This comment earned him another sharp look. "Why should that matter?"

Christopher shrugged. "I don't know, really. It concerned Dad; something about how us kids may as well be full-blooded Fae."

"Hm. Well, I believe this explains a great deal. Now I will _definitely_ speak to him about this. You had best return to... Bill before your father returns, else you will have to speak to him after all." She gave a short chuckle as Christopher fairly sprang from the footstool.

"Good point. Thanks, Mom." He kissed her on the cheek then hurried out the window.

As soon as Christopher left again, Sarah rose and regarded the bedroom door with narrowed eyes. Steeling herself for what would likely prove to be a rather feisty encounter of the less-than-fun variety, she then went up to the study to await Jareth's return to the Underground.

Once there, she was not left waiting long.

Though he was not present, Jareth's dark mood of the previous day lingered heavily on the air in the study. It was still, oppressive, foreboding, and the effect of a spell designed to dissuade intruders from remaining. Even Sarah's presence did little to disturb the atmosphere from where she leaned against a bookshelf near the doorway.

Within minutes, the air silently moved to accommodate Jareth's sudden appearance before one of the grand windows lining the outer edge of the room. He gazed out over the scene momentarily before crossing to his desk and throwing himself down in the chair behind it. With a twist of one hand, a crystal appeared.

Jareth stared at the crystal, spinning it idly with the tips of his fingers before conjuring up the image of the Wizard Katrin was so taken with. He was asleep, apparently, though within seconds his eyes flew open. Before Jareth could see what Bill would do next, however, a voice interrupted his contemplations.

"What are you doing?"

Looking around, Jareth found Sarah standing at the edge of the room, accusation written all over her face. Though how she found out was a mystery, he was struck with the thought that she knew _precisely_ what he was doing, and did not approve in the slightest. Nevertheless, he didn't bother vanishing the crystal, instead returning his eyes to the image it contained as he replied, "Nothing."

Sarah snorted. "Nothing, he says. You're watching him again, aren't you. As you were doing all day yesterday."

"Naturally." He grinned. "Why, want a peek?"

"No." Abruptly, the crystal vanished out of his hand. Jareth looked up and straight into his wife's narrowed eyes.

"Sarah," he began plaintively, reaching to take the crystal back and eyebrow rising when she held it just beyond his grasp.

"_No,_ Jareth. This," she shook it under his nose before snapping it away again when he made a grab for it, "ends now. You cannot keep spying on him like this."

"And why not? He is here, after all, on a matter that concerns the security of the Kingdom." Jareth considered conjuring up another crystal just to make his point, but her eyes were flashing dangerously. "Besides-"

"Besides nothing," she snapped. "We both know that you are doing this because of our daughter, not out of some deep concern for the state of the Kingdom's security spells!"

Jareth crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "And how did you come to know about this in any case."

"A little bird told me."

There was a pause as Jareth's own eyes narrowed. "Christopher. Undermined by my own son."

"_Our_ son did no such thing. He simply took advantage of your absence to act in the best interests of both himself and this Wizard, which is precisely his duty by your command. Do you really think that your watching them _constantly_ is going to somehow be at all helpful?"

"In this case, it does not matter if I am being helpful or not. How else do you propose I discern whether is worthy of our daughter?"

"_Worthy_?" She put her hands on her hips as her volume rose a notch. "Jareth, that is _not_ for you to decide!"

At that, Jareth rose and, in doing so, shoved his chair back so hard it hit the wall. "Well if not me, her _father_, then who do you suggest should? Certainly not Katrin."

Sarah gave a shocked burst of laughter. She could scarcely believe she was having this argument. "Actually, that is precisely who I had in mind."

His snort was derisive. "Oh, I think not. She is far too young to be even considered mature enough to-"

"Too young? She is the same age as I was when you began courting me."

He waved her comment away with one hand and crossed back to the window he appeared before. "Yes, well that was different."

"Diff - No, I am not going to go there." She stopped, searching for a way to get through to him. She filled up the awkwardness of her silence by gently placing the crystal on his desk. "Actually, I do want to know. Different how?"

"She is Fae, Sarah."

"_Half_ Fae."

Again, he dismissively waived his hand. "Either way, she will not have matured in the same way as you did."

"Of course not; she is a different person. Quite frankly, I think she is far more mature than I was at that age."

"Perhaps." He was silent for a moment. "But she spent most of her life here, Underground, not in the Mortal World where people live by an entirely different code of conduct."

"So... Are you implying that you think she is naive enough to simply allow this young man to take advantage of her, is that it?" As often happened when they argued over the differences of their natural Worlds, Sarah regarded him with nothing short of bewildered incredulity. "Oh Jareth, honestly. Even if she was the type to do so, which she most certainly is not, she is not so poor a judge of character that she would not be able to see if an attempt would be in someone's nature. She has demonstrated that particular skill time and again, on both Fae and Humans; you know that as well as I. And there is no reason to automatically suspect he would try. You know, it is as though you are choosing to dislike him, to distrust him simply on the base that he appears to like her, and she him."

"Of course I am."

"Oh good heavens. I never would have pegged you as the shotgun father type."

He snapped around to face her once more. "And what, pray, is that supposed to mean?"

"It really wouldn't matter _who_ she showed interest in, would it? Were he a common criminal from Aboveground or a ruler from a neighboring kingdom. You would still attempt to chase him away, cut him off at the pass."

"I was not protective enough before, Sarah, and she suffered for it."

She was pushing his buttons, and she knew it. "Yes, Jareth, she was hurt. And maybe there was something you could have done to prevent it that time. But pain and heartache are, unfortunately, part of living. It helps shape who you become and she came away from it stronger. You might be able to reorder time, but you cannot change the past. To do so would change who she is now."

"That does not mean I will simply stand by and allow the same to happen again!"

"Why do you assume it will? She genuinely _likes_ this one, and that makes this a whole other ball game."

"I assume it because I can tell! She is who is she is, _what_ she is, and I will not deny this fact. But it is that very thing which makes him a danger to her, that makes him hurting her inevitable!"

"Really." Sarah knew her tone was flat, for she also knew where he was going with this. "And what makes you say that?"

"He is Mortal! He couldn't possibly understand-" Jareth cut himself off as the look in her eyes registered, along with what he had been about to say. "Sarah, I..." All the fight had gone out of him, here he faltered.

Sarah closed her eyes and rubbed her hands over her face with a sigh. "Jareth," she said quietly, shaking her head. She paused before looking at him, "My love, it does not matter whether or not you think it is her place to make this decision, or whether you think she is ready to do so. It does not matter that he is Mortal and that she is not, a statement which neither you nor I can even pretend to know with certainty. It does not matter that she may or may not get hurt at some point. Whatever the answers, whatever the case may be, it does not justify your spying on him like that."

"I just want to protect her."

"I know," she said gently. "But she will resent you for protection of this sort. Do you remember our first argument? What it was about?"

He blinked at her, somewhat surprised at the topic shift. "Yes, of course. You found out I had been watching you periodically for years and I could not see the what was wrong with doing - oh." He sighed, crossing to his chair and throwing himself in it once again. "Very well. I shall stop watching him."

Sarah did not bother to hide her smile. _He looks so petulant_, she thought. "Good."

"Hmph."

"Oh, stop sulking."

"I am not-"

"You _are_, Jareth. Do you really think I can't tell? I won fair and square because I am right; you lost and don't like it. It is natural for you to sulk, though you should not do so. Thankfully, I am in a rather forgiving mood and am ready to negotiate the terms of your surrender."

He looked up at her, eyes narrowing again though this time they held curiosity instead of anger or frustration. "You mean I should now apologize for my outrageous and unjustified conclusions as well as my words spoken without thought."

"Yes, of course."

He continued to regard her. "Hmm..." In response to this, Sarah leaned on the edge of the desk and gave him her best pitiful, doe-eyed expression. He struggled to not grin. "Why is it that I am not allowed to sulk and yet you stand there doing the same thing, and manage to get your way without any sign of being contrite?"

"I am not sulking; I am pouting."

"Doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does. You should not sulk because it is not becoming, nor is it flattering to your character. I am allowed to pout, on the other hand, because I am the girl and it works to my advantage."

"Ah, I know your secret now."

"Mm, you see _that _is what doesn't matter. Your knowing the secret renders you no more powerful to resist. Now I suggest you get on with that apologizing."

Allowing his grin to surface, Jareth reached out and took hold of one of Sarah's hands. "As the champion commands," he flippantly remarked as he pulled her toward him.


	38. Thirty Seven: Back To Alistair

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

**Chapter Thirty-Seven: Back To Alistair's**

It was another early Monday morning, and about as mundane of a Monday as could ever be asked for. This did happen now and again; after all, these cycles were the way of the world. Therefore, as she set tables in the same manner as she did every day, Nell did not begrudge the world for throwing any kinks - mundane or otherwise - into the well-practiced routine. She knew things would shake themselves up again in no time at all.

"Argh." The muttering in the bay window drew her attention. "This light sucks."

Bree and Sheryl were huddled around the tables. The curtains had been drawn as widely as they would go in an attempt to let in more light, but the late-summer downpour going on outside was not being accommodating at all. _Well,_ thought Nell, _perhaps that is a mild kink attempting to deconstruct the mundane._

"Yeah, I guess so," Bree was saying. "But I like the rain."

"Liking the rain or not is beside the point! The light still sucks."

"Although," Nell could not resist interjecting, "one could argue that it is not so much the _light_ that sucks as it is the _lack_ of said light. Cookies?" She offered in response to Sheryl's half-hearted groan.

"Nell," Bree admonished, though the presence of a giggle lessened the effect of the chastisement, "those are supposed to be for paying customers."

Nell shrugged. "I pay the bills. Besides, who ever said we were in this business for the money? Now do you want some or not? I added extra chocolate chips when Jen was not looking and she was so disgruntled about Alistair refusing to remove himself from inside her favorite mixing bowl she didn't even notice."

"Nell! Shame on you!"

Sheryl looked scandalized that Bree was arguing this issue as though extra chocolate chips was a _bad_ thing. "Bree, shush. Bring those cookies over, Nell!"

Bree rolled her eyes good-naturedly before grabbing a cookie for herself. "Jen should know better than to try to move Alistair from any place he wants to be."

"That's just it. She wasn't trying to move him at all. She just stomped about being disgruntled about it." Nell fetched drinks as well before joining the other two at the table.

"Mmm... I won't complain if it means more chocolate" Sheryl sighed with pleasure. "Why didn't you move him for her? Alistair always listens to you. Darn cat."

"If I removed him, she may have noticed the excess chocolate." They all laughed. "Besides, it was her own fault for letting him inside at all."

"True," agreed Bree. "That goes against all her kitchen principles. Why did she do it?"

"Felt sorry for him, what with the rain. She didn't actually intend to let him in the kitchen, but you know Alistair. He's sneaky."

"Darn cat," Sheryl repeated.

Nell laughed again. "Oh, without a doubt."

The bells hanging on the door tinkled signaling the end of their conversation and the arrival of a customer. Whoever it was wore large Wellington boots, an oddly oversized Trilby-like hat, and a long rain slicker with the collar turned up so the face was hidden. As the outer garments were shod and hung to drip dry from one of the many coat racks brought out for that specific purpose, Katrin was revealed. For all her protective gear, she was still quite soaked.

"What did you do, you precocious child, fall in a lake on the way here?" Nell bustled her over to the table and went to make a huge mug of hot chocolate.

"In that get-up?" asked Bree. "I bet she was playing at _Singing In the Rain_."

Katrin laughed. "Would you believe it is just that wet outside?"

A simultaneous, "No," came from the other three, making Katrin laugh all the harder.

"Ok, ok. I was hopping in a few puddles, miscalculated one, slipped, and fell right into it."

"Ah ha! I was right!"

"What? You said 'lake' not 'puddle'," commented Sheryl.

"True, but a puddle is a lake to a bumble bee," Nell replied, bringing the cocoa over.

"Katrin is not a bumble bee."

"Not only that," observed Bree, "but if she were, the puddle that soaked her to that extent must have been an ocean."

"This is where Nell will say 'An ocean is a lake to a giant'," Sheryl stage whispered to a still laughing Katrin.

"I was actually thinking more along the lines of 'ogre', but it amounts to the same thing. I'll go get you some towels or something, Katrin."

Immediately after she disappeared up the stairs, Jen came up from the kitchens and pulled up a chair. "That cat - oh, hello Katrin - is _deliberately_ trying to annoy me."

"Trying? Looks like he has accomplished his goal," Bree remarked, dryly.

"Hmph. I am just going to ignore you and have a cookie." After she took a bite, she frowned at it, and then proceeded to frown at the rest on the plate. "Why are there so many chocolate chips in these things?"

"Nell," Sheryl and Bree said together.

"Hmph. Used my distraction to tamper with my dough! She is probably in league with that cat."

"Nonsense," said Nell as she came down the stairs. "Cats do not form leagues. They engage in temporary alliances if, and only if, the end result will be entirely beneficial to themselves."

"Fine. You arranged a temporary alliance with that cat."

"Even more nonsense. What would Alistair gain from excess chocolate chips in the cookies?" She handed Katrin a stack of fluffy towels and a change of clothes. "You know where everything is, dear, so go get dry."

"Right. I'll be right back."

"Don't rush," Jen told her. "We aren't going anywhere." She turned back to Nell and shook the half-eaten cookie at her. "I'm on to you, you know."

"Of course you are."

"Hmph."

"Personally," interrupted Sheryl, "I think the change to the recipe is nice."

Bree laughed once again. "You would. Is Alistair still in the bowl?"

"Yes! _And_ he had the audacity to look directly at me, twitch his tail not once but _three times_, and then fall asleep! I tell you, it was deliberate."

"Shall I move him for you?" asked Nell.

"Yes. And then I'll need to sanitize the kitchen. We can't sell anything cooked while a cat was sleeping in the mixing bowls."

"Why don't we just make the boys do it? That's why we keep them around, after all. To perform all the messy grunt work," said Sheryl.

Bree grinned widely. "How sexist of you."

"Well, I can't do it. I'd break a nail! And I know you all agree with me on this, too, so don't try to deny it."

"Doesn't matter, really. They are off doing messy grunt work on the farm. You know, doing what we pay them to do."

"Oh yeah," Sheryl sighed. "All right then. Bree and I will clean up here and Nell can go move the cat. Jen can enlist Katrin's aid and we'll meet downstairs in five minutes. Happy?"

"Yes," Jen replied. The four women went on their designated tasks.

Ten minutes later, everyone save Nell was waiting in the kitchen. After she convinced Alistair that it was his idea to go back outside into the rain, a customer arrived and she went back upstairs to take care of him. Jen was buzzing about trying to organize tasks for everyone that would make the endeavor go by as swiftly as possible. Sheryl and Katrin sat on the counter watching her, looking for all the world as though they were watching a tennis match. Bree sat on a stool watching them.

"Remind me again why Nell is the one who gets to do the customer service thing," Sheryl demanded.

"Because," answered Bree, "she is the only one who can work the coffee stuff correctly. It nearly explodes every time any of us do it."

"Oh yeah."

"The cat, the coffee... It's a plot, I tell you." Jen's voice was slightly muffled as her head was currently inside a cupboard.

"Everything is a plot, with you, Aunt Jen," said Katrin.

"Naturally," said Bree. "Keeps things interesting."

"What does?" Nell asked as she entered the kitchen.

"Plots."

"Ah."

"What took you so long?" asked Sheryl.

"I made a sign for the counter."

"A sign?"

"Yes. 'Kitchen is temporarily closed. Blame lies on Alistair; do not share your latté with him for a week. Ring bell for espresso and chilled beverages. Help yourself to the brewed coffee and cookies.' What do you think?"

Katrin giggled. "People still give him coffee, eh?"

Bree sighed. "Yes, it's terrible. He is addicted to the foam. Do you know, I gave him a little milk last week and he just sniffed at it? Complete disdain from whiskers to tail. I had to get Nell to froth it for him and even then he ignored me for the rest of the day."

"Ok, people, enough chit chat. Let's get to work!" Jen started handing out various rags and cleaning products. "You two, dishes. You, floor. Me, counters. We'll get to everything else as it comes!"

"Aye-aye, Captain!" Nell saluted with the mop Jen handed her. "Are you sure this is small enough? Should I go get a toothbrush instead?"

Jen glared at Nell as Bree and Sheryl tried, and failed, to hide their chortling laughter. Katrin did not bother to hide her amusement. "You had better behave, missy."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll do something to you!"

"Be nice. I know where the cat is hiding."

"You are so mean."

"Uh, Aunt Jen," Katrin interjected, attempting to stall the argument and earning herself hits from either side with towels flicked by Bree and Sheryl. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Nothing," the four answered together.

"You," Jen finished, "are supposed to sit there," she pointed at a chair, "and tell us all about Bill. It is unfair that only Nell knows anything about him at all."

"Yes," agreed Sheryl. "She refused to tell us anything on the ground that 'it isn't her story to tell'."

Katrin blushed, but grinned broadly as she filled them in on the particulars of her meeting and brief encounters with Bill. With all their interruptions and teasing, not to mention a few requests for espresso from upstairs, it took until shortly before noon for her to finish. By that time, the kitchen was sparkling to Jen's satisfaction and they made their way upstairs to have lunch together.

As they settled down with a tray of Katrin's favorite tea sandwiches that Bree had made the night before and put in the fridge specifically for this occasion ("I knew you were going to come over today," she had said), Katrin reflected on her unique friendship with the four older women. After her parents, they were the first people she turned to for guidance. They were her mentors, and her sounding boards when she needed to talk her way through a difficult problem. At the same time, she considered them her peers, able to giggle with them over the silliest and most frivolous of matters. They knew her as well as her family did, in some respects even better, though she had not told them of her 'otherworldly' heritage. To be fair, she knew very little about their lives before they took her under their wings. However, there was never the feeling that they were hiding anything from each other. Origins and the past did not matter.

"So," Jen set down a pitcher of fresh squeezed juice, interrupting Katrin's musings, "when will you see Bill again?"

Katrin could not prevent a flicker of disappointment from crossing her features. "That's the thing; I don't know."

"Well why not?" asked Sheryl.

"Uh, maybe because he's in England?"

"And?"

She looked back and forth at their expectant faces. "And what? He's in England; I'm not. And when I last heard from him, he seemed to be fairly busy with work. I doubt he'll be able to get away for the rest of his vacation any time soon."

"Job security, that." Nell gave the aside to Jen, who nodded in mock seriousness.

"You mean, so he can come here," said Bree, ignoring Nell's comment.

"Well, yeah, of course."

"Mm." Bree nodded, knowingly.

"You do like him, don't you? Interested enough to want to pursue something beyond mere acquaintance or friendship?" Sheryl asked.

Katrin blushed for the umpteenth time that day. "Well, yeah."

"And you aren't going to be satisfied with mere correspondence for long, are you?" put in Jen.

"No, probably not."

"So... why wait for him to come here? Why don't _you_ go to _him_?" Nell suggested this as though it was the most obvious of solutions.

Katrin blinked. "What, to England?" She watched as they exchanged glances then nodded as one. "But... but... isn't that a bit... forward?"

"Oh, don't be so old fashioned," chastised Jen.

"After all," added Bree, "nothing ventured, nothing gained!"

"True," agreed Nell. "Sitting around here isn't going to get you anywhere except frustrated."

"I grant you, it might be considered 'improper' by some," Sheryl put in.

"Also true, and the 'some' will most likely be your parents. Granted, I've never met them so I could be wrong about that. Either way, it really is your life and your decision to make. They have to let you grow up some time."

"Besides," concluded Sheryl as she nodded to agree with Nell, "it isn't as though you never wanted to go to England anyway. This way, you'll have a friend to show you all the best sites!"

"Ooh, good point. Natives really do make the best tour guides."

Still surprised by the turn of conversation, Katrin shook her head. "But... what if he doesn't actually want to see me again and is just using work as an excuse?"

Jen sighed. "Has he given you any indication of a lack of interest?"

"Well, no. But I haven't actually heard from him in a few days and-"

"You said yourself that he's busy with work. You can't let a little thing like the chance that it might not work out the way you want stop you from taking a chance or two."

"Well... I guess that's true," she paused, before coming up with another justifiable excuse. "But it doesn't matter, does it? I'm contracted for weekend gigs for the rest of this month and the better part of September. I can't just back out of them for what may prove to be a wild goose chase."

Nell clicked her tongue. "No one said you should go _now_. It will take a while for you plan it all out in any case."

"And airfare rates should go down once summer is over," Sheryl interjected.

Katrin slumped in her chair and just stared at her four eccentric friends as they debated the other benefits of traveling to England in the fall as opposed to the summer. She ran the idea over in her head again, finding herself growing steadily accustomed to the idea. _I can't exactly complain that I cannot afford it_, she thought, _because that isn't exactly an issue. Nell's right about my parents' disapproval, though I would wager Mother would understand and probably make suggestions on what to pack. Dad, however..._ She sighed._ And I am supposed to go Home at the end of the Season; I always do... Of course, Dad _did_ seem rather intent on keeping me _out_ of the Underground when he visited yesterday. And while that makes me curious as to _why_, I might as well be the agreeable child for once..._ She shook her head once more and grinned when she realized the others had stopped talking and were watching her, waiting for her to finish thinking it over.

"So?" asked Bree, breaking the silence.

"I never knew you four were such matchmakers," Katrin said, shaking her head with a dry laugh.

"Matchmakers?" Sheryl blinked in mock offense. "Us? Never. We're just offering our opinions."

Katrin laughed again. "Offering opinions, was it? That's reassuring. I thought you had teamed to come at me from all sides in order to convince me that your 'opinions' were the only ones worth having."

"Can we help it that we are right?" asked Nell.

"Not only that, but if you didn't think it was a good idea in the first place you would not have given up so easily," Sheryl added.

"Hey now! Who said I've given up?"

"Oh, we can tell, dear. It's a knack." Bree patted Katrin's knee reassuringly. "But don't worry. You don't have to admit it just yet if you don't want to. Now, I will go get a calendar so we can start thinking about dates!"

As Bree got up, Katrin threw her hands up in defeat. "If this is how you handle the people you consider friends, I pity those engaging in such futile stupidity as to be your enemies."

"They never get very far," confirmed Nell. Turning to Jen once more she asked, "So is there anything exciting downstairs for dessert?"


	39. Thirty Eight: Cracking the Safe

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

**Chapter Thirty-Eight: Cracking the Safe**

It was just past midday when Bill crested the hill, Christopher flying low behind him. In the valley below, if a valley it could be called, grew a small, rectangular patch of grass. Of all the things he had seen in the past five days, this one took the prize as being the most out of place. In and of itself, the grass was not so out of the ordinary. It didn't look half dead, rather dehydrated, or match the seemingly barren desert-like appearance he had gotten used to. It was not oddly shaped, discolored, or even be-speckled with a hint of the glitter that could be found on everything else.

No, this patch of grass was merely a patch of grass, green and emitting a fresh-cut scent. And the fact that it was so ordinary is what set it apart.

Bill knew what the patch of grass was, what it represented. Here, after nearly five days journey, he had reached the back entrance to the Gringotts vaults. But as he looked at it, he found himself uncertain as to how, exactly, he should proceed. He walked halfway down the hill, flopping down onto the dusty earth as he thought about what to do next.

Christopher stared at the Wizard as he, in turn, stared down the hill. _I wonder what he sees_, he thought, turning his gaze to regard what he saw as a shimmering rent in the air leading Aboveground. _It's obvious to me, of course, but I'm not exactly what you'd call unfamiliar with the magic of the Underground. But does _he_ realize what he is looking at?_ He looked back at Bill once more.

After another minute of silence, Bill turned his head and made eye contact with his owl companion. "So, my feathered tour guide," he said, "there it is."

_Guess he does._

"What shall we do next?"

Christopher turned his head to look at the gateway, blinking at it. _Go in?_

"The obvious thing would be to go in, naturally."

_Naturally. Right._

"Of course, considering the hour, Gringotts is still open."

_You're assuming time here is synchronized with time Aboveground, you silly Mortal._

"And if Gringotts is open, it is likely crawling with Goblins."

_I cannot even begin to imagine those Goblins of yours crawling..._

"Not literally crawling, of course."

_I know that! I was just being - hang on, how did you know what I was thinking? _Christopher spent a moment regarding Bill warily before deciding that he was merely being deliberately patronizing. Again.

"Merely a metaphor," Bill muttered, as though not particularly concentrating on what he was saying. He had turned back to the gateway, deep in thought once more.

This patronizing thing started the morning after Christopher went to speak to his mother. She had obviously spoken to his father, for there was no more of the watching. With its absence, Bill's mood had become more lighthearted. What _that_ meant, much to Christopher's chagrin, was he was constantly giving Christopher instruction on the way of Mortal life and expression. He over-explained a host of obvious turns of phrases as though Christopher would have no idea what they could possibly mean. At first, he thought Bill had lost his mind to suddenly become so obnoxious in a way that was not to be expected. Then he caught the gleam in Bill's eyes. This clued him into Bill's game: he was playing along with the ridiculous notion that Christopher was nothing more than an owl, albeit one with above-average intelligence. But he also appeared to feel that the need to play along was even more ridiculous, and so took delight in giving Christopher a hard time. While this did indeed serve to raise Christopher's esteem of Bill, it rankled that he was not able to give as well, or better, than he got because he actually had to pretend that he was no more than an owl.

_Just you wait,_ he thought. _I know things about you now you never would have let me know had you known I am the older brother of the girl you're interested in._ Once more, Christopher found great comfort in the fun that was to be had at the expense of his sister and her suitor. He could not hold back his chuckle, however.

Bill looked back at Christopher at the emission of a rather strange sound. "What was that?" he asked. "It sounded like a combination between a screech and the coughing up of something large and unpleasant. Are you all right?" He watched as Christopher shuffled uncomfortably and averted his gaze. It was his turn to chuckle. "You know, I know you're probably trying really hard and everything, but you make a crummy owl. I hope I get to find out what the whole secret is one of these days. I mean, if not I understand and everything, but really. That this is necessary is outrageously funny."

_Yeah, you think so _now. _Hah, I say._

"Anyway, I guess it's back to the topic at hand, eh? I say we wait a few more hours until its a little closer to closing time. There won't be quite as much activity in the vaults, but still enough people milling about upstairs to hide our escape." He paused. "Hm. Once I figure out what our escape will be." Bill sighed and scratched his head. "Well, I suppose I should take a closer look at this entrance thing."

With that, he rose and scrambled the rest of the way down the hill. Dropping his satchel at the edge of the grass, he dug through it and pulled out the tome. Tucking it under one arm, Bill slowly circled the patch of grass.

Christopher flew down to stand next to the satchel, peering inside it once more. He supposed he should be watching Bill just in case he made some sort of sudden dive into the gateway, or tripped and fell in, but he could not get over the idea of being able to fit so much stuff inside such a tiny bag. It was a use of magic that he had never seen before. He wondered if it could be duplicated with Fae magic, as well as how.

When he got to the other side of the patch of grass, Bill yelped. This caused Christopher to jump a foot into the air and nearly fall over when he landed again as he attempted to look in all directions at once trying to find the danger. Seeing nothing, he chose to glare at Bill. _What in the name of all that is sacred did you do that for?_

Noticing out of the corner of one eye that Christopher looked rather ruffled, Bill apologized. "Sorry. I wasn't expecting to see inside the vaults." He peered around the side of the grassy rectangle, and then looked through it again.

Christopher hopped over to Bill's side and looked through as well, curious as to what the vaults looked like. What he saw was not what he expected. All the things he had seen about Mortal banks, mainly through films at his Uncle Toby's house with their orderly metal boxes and security cameras, would never have led him to the picture that presented itself. Even his father's treasure vaults looked nothing like this. This was a cavern. This was where a dragon would keep its hoard in a large pile. This was where he would choose to go spelunking. This was not where he would have built a bank. _You Wizards are completely bonkers. Though_, he thought after a pause, _I suppose it is the Goblins who are bonkers since they built the bank in the first place. So maybe it does make sense. Maybe._

"This is an _amazing _spell. It's so... clean... and polished... and precise..."

_Well, _naturally_. What did you expect from the Fae? And the King of the Goblins, no less?_ Christopher barely restrained himself from preening.

"Like when they opened the board room window and instead of Diagon Alley down below all I could see was this place. But when I walked through, I couldn't see the board room behind me. I wonder if that is because it was only a temporary connection, set up specifically for me to use to get here. Huh." Bill raised his eyebrows and circled the grass once more. "Of course, if I go through here and can't see the Labyrinth behind me, that throws that theory out the window, eh Christopher?"

He flopped down on the ground once more, next to his satchel, and pulled out another packet of quest rations with a heavy sigh. "Mm, lunch. I'd sure love to have some of Mum's home cooking right about now." Bill offered a dried wafer to Christopher. "Hungry?"

_You have got to be kidding me._

The look of disdain the owl gave him was priceless and set Bill laughing once again. "Can't say I blame you on that one!" Leaning back on his hands, he looked around. "You know, I think I'm going to miss this place."

_Really? Even though it, what was it, gives you the creeps?_

"It all still seems very strange to me and everything. But it's so," he shrugged, "I don't know. Peaceful, in a way."

_Peaceful? The Labyrinth?_ Christopher called to mind their first 'conversation' and mentally gave an ironic grin.

"I can't really figure it out. I know I'm not the only living thing out here; that chicken was evidence of that."

_The _chicken_? And what am I?_

"You don't count, of course, being as you aren't really what you pretend to be," he said with an obvious grin.

_Hmph._

"Anyway, no matter whatever else is out there, it's so solitary here. But it isn't lonely at all. Probably because I _know_ there are other things out there and knowing is something of a comfort. It's a great place to think without too much distraction. To get away from it all for a while." He fell silent, laying back with his hands folded behind his head and staring at the cloudless sky.

Christopher wondered if Bill was going to fall asleep, staring at nothing. Initially, he hoped Bill would say something else. It was a bit aggravating to have to partake in a rather one-sided conversation, but at least it filled in the silence. As he thought about what Bill had said about thinking without distraction, however, he found his own thoughts wandering to the variety of things that had plagued his mind recently but were not given the luxury of time for contemplation.

It seemed like only minutes later when Bill sitting up again brought Christopher out of his reveries. "Well, as I mentioned before, I genuinely wouldn't mind having the opportunity to come back here again in more favorable circumstances. But that isn't likely to happen."

_Oh, ye of little faith._

"In any case, time to get going." He took one last look around before slipping the tome inside his satchel once again and hitching it over his shoulder. Standing before the gateway, he reached into the satchel and pulled out his wand. Casting a glance down at the owl at his feet, Bill grinned wryly. "You don't actually have to go in there, you know. Caves and such aren't exactly made for owls to fly around in and we might have to make a fast getaway."

_And miss this chance at seeing how this all is going to turn out? Of seeing you in action in your own World? Fat chance._ He somehow launched himself into the air from the ground and landed on Bill's shoulder in one, graceful movement.

"I take that to mean you're coming along then," he said with a chuckle. "Though for future reference, owls don't usually tend to zip about like sparrows. Well," he said after considering, "unless you're an owl like Pig, I guess. Right then, here we go." Thus said, he stepped through to the vaults.

There was a strange whooshing in Christopher's ears as they entered the vaults, but none of the familiar sensation of traveling Aboveground. Mildly concerned, he blinked and peered around.

"_Lumos_," Bill muttered, and his wand began to emit a faint light just bright enough to see by. He turned around and saw the Labyrinth still behind him framed in a vague square. However, instead of being a clear picture, it was superimposed upon an image of rocks. His eyebrows popped up again. "It's camouflaged," he whispered. "That is bloody brilliant."

Christopher personally agreed, not having expected that, but his attention was still on the feel of this place. Abruptly, he remembered what his father said about the vaults; how the Wizards believed them to be deep underground below London when in actuality they were Underground. _Oh, right_, he thought, feeling vaguely stupid for not realizing it._ That makes more sense. It wasn't a gateway after all, simply a doorway to another part of the Labyrinth. I wonder where, exactly. And how the Wizards and Goblins get down here from Aboveground in the first place. Hm... For that matter, I wonder if Dad even knows exactly._

Bill had maneuvered the tome back out of the satchel. "Never should have put it away, really," he muttered to himself as he flipped pages to a bizarrely drawn map. "Ok, this should be interesting. I've never actually gone from one vault to another by walking. I can't quite imagine how it is supposed to work, but if these drawings and Quirrell's notes are even remotely correct, it should take us another hour or so to get to the vault we need, number seven hundred and thirteen."

With that, he steadily began moving farther into the caverns, over rocks and around large stalagmites. Christopher remained perched firmly on his shoulder, only getting off when they would get to a point that required some climbing on Bill's part that would have been near impossible with an owl on his shoulder. However, once he would be on relatively level ground again, Christopher returned to his former spot. Now and again, they would venture past a trench that seemed to go down forever bisected by tracks of some sort. These reminded Christopher of more films he had seen, this time Westerns in which there was mining for gold or coal. When they saw these inexplainable tracks, for which Bill did not offer any clarification, they would shortly pass by a door with numbers emblazoned on it. There were tiny keyholes in the doors and Christopher assumed these were the vaults. It seemed to be a rather insecure way to lock them, with simply a key.

It did not take quite an hour to get to vault seven hundred and thirteen, though it certainly felt that way. Bill stood before the door for a full minute simply regarding it, and Christopher avidly perused it as well. What struck him as most odd was the fact that there was no keyhole in this door. _How do we get in?_ he thought.

"Well," Bill was still whispering, "now there's nothing left for it than to get inside, drop the tome, and get back out again. Easy enough, except for the getting out again part. See, this one is a high security vault, which means it doesn't open with a key."

_I gathered that much._

"Technically, only Goblins can open the door. If anyone else tries to open this door, they should get sucked in and not released. The problem with that is the original of the tome was found _inside _the vault, but Quirrell was not."

_Oh. That is a problem._

"I've checked this thing cover to cover numerous times, and there isn't anything about how to get in the vault without getting trapped inside. Nor is there anything about getting out again once one is trapped inside. The last page of the tome is this picture." Bill held it up for Christopher to see, but in doing so he dropped it. The loud 'thud' echoed off the cavern walls for nearly a minute. "Bollocks," he hissed, kneeling to pick it up so quickly that Christopher nearly lost his balance. Picking the tome up, Bill noticed it was upside down and, as he rose, he began turning it around.

Suddenly, he froze mid-rise, staring aghast at the what the picture revealed at an angle. "Bloody hell." He was so shocked he forgot to whisper. Bill held his wand closer to the page, illuminating what was drawn there for Christopher to see.

It took a moment to realize what he was looking at. When it finally registered, his eyes widened in horror. He was severely tempted to transform then and there with the desire to actually discuss this with Bill. _When Dad finds out about this..._

"Well, that explains it." Once more, Bill was whispering. "Though I don't see how this could possibly work since it is only a copy of the original." He paused. "At least, I _think_ it is only a copy. They wouldn't have..." He looked at Christopher. The owl was looking a little green. "Would they have?" He paused again. "Well, I suppose the only way to find out is to try it." Swallowing hard, Bill closed the tome and, holding his breath and leaning back, pressed the spine against the door.

Nothing happened.

Both owl and Wizard heaved huge sighs of relief. Their momentary relaxation was cut short, however, by the sound of something clattering down the tracks behind them. "Damn," Bill whispered. "Goblin guards. I don't know if this quest is exactly common knowledge, so they probably shouldn't catch us here." He extinguished his wand and ran over between two stalagmites next to the trench and crouched down.

Thinking this could be considered a critical moment, Christopher thought quickly. _Surely even these Goblins wouldn't be so foolish as to attack a member of the Fae. Certainly not a member of their Royal Family..._ He was on the verge of transforming when Bill whispered to him.

"Here they come. I have an idea." He threw the tome at the door, where it smacked against it with another 'thud' and slid to the ground in a heap.

_That's your idea? Throw the book at the door?_

"Now," continued Bill as he opened his satchel and placed his wand inside, "this is a huge risk, and we could end up getting killed. But we'll likely get killed anyway so we may as well try it. I'm sorry, but this is probably going to be very uncomfortable for you."

_What is? _He began to get extremely nervous when Bill grasped him in both hands. _Are you going to throw me next or something?_

"Don't make any noise. At all. No matter what. And don't worry; you won't shrink."

_Is that supposed to be reassuring?_

Bill flattened himself against the stalagmite and peered around the edge. A cart came to a screeching halt and five angry looking Goblins bearing nasty looking weapons piled out of the cart. They crowded over to the door of the vault, some snapping their heads around and peering into the darkness. One said something in Gobbledygook as he picked up the tome, and they all turned to look at it. After more brief comments, another one of them opened the door to the vault and they all crowded inside.

As if that was the signal Bill was waiting for, he stuffed Christopher into his satchel, flipped the cover down, and launched himself at the tracks. In an instant, he scrambled around the outside edge and gained hold of the cart with one hand. With the other, he reached into his satchel and pulled out his wand. Pointing it at the hand holding the cart, he muttered a sticking spell before shoving the wand between the stuck fingers and pointing in another direction. Finally, he grasped the cart with the other hand as well in the vague direction that the wand was pointing and he muttered the spell again.

He was just in time. The Goblins came rushing out of the vault just as the spell placed itself. Four of them ventured out into the darkness, whilst the fifth went back into the cart. Immediately, it was careening back along the tracks once more.

_Well, _Christopher thought as he banged around inside Bill's bag, _that Wizard is either a genius, or insane. Possibly both. _He fell over for the fourth time and decided that he may as well just lay there. _Oh the indignity of it all. No wonder Kati likes him. _As he considered this somewhat upsetting and somewhat amusing revelation, he felt the suction of magic leaving the air. Unexpected, it left him very disoriented, but he managed to grasp that they were now, truly, Aboveground.

In short order, the cart skidded to a halt once more. The Goblin launched out of the cart and ran through a door. When Bill heard this, he muttered the counter-spell to unstick first one hand, then the other. Gingerly, arms aching and feeling as though they were no longer connected to his shoulders, he climbed into the cart and out the other side. Realizing there was no time to acknowledge the spinning of his head, he snuck out the door as well.

He had timed it right. There were still plenty of Wizards wandering around the lobby of the bank. With his experienced eye, he gauged things precisely and blended into the crowd, disappearing from sight out the main doors. Somehow, he managed to remain calm, though in appearance only, as he sedately walked toward the Leaky Cauldron.

Once there, he ordered a large tankard of butterbeer before making his way to a table hidden in the corner. Sitting down, gingerly, Bill tucked the satchel next to him and opened it. Christopher looked even more green than before, but he was in once piece and alive. Bill carefully lifted him out of the satchel and, after checking to see if anyone was paying attention, set him on the table next to his tankard.

"It wasn't the easiest way to come, I grant you, but in any case, welcome to the Magical Realm of the Mortal World."


	40. Thirty Nine: One Puzzle Solved

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

**Chapter Thirty-Nine: One Puzzle Solved...**

Christopher peered around, taking in everything he could. _So this is where Wizards go to relax,_ he thought, marveling at the atmosphere. _If I didn't know any better, I would swear we were on a film set for one of those movies Mother and Katrin like so much. _He found it fascinatingly surreal. There were candle-lit lanterns hung all about the room, and everyone was wearing similar robes to Bill. Some of the people, (_Wizards and Witches_, he reminded himself) had dubious looking objects scattered on their tables or sticking out of bags, and each of them had a wand close by as well. Every now and then, an owl would fly in or out, frequently with a piece of paper tied to its leg.

Mentally shaking his head, Christopher resisted the urge to chuckle. _Totally weird. And totally up her alley._ A movement from across the table drew his attention. He looked over to see Bill had just set down his quill and was now rubbing his hands across his face. Ever curious, Christopher hobbled across the table to peek at the parchment Bill had been scribbling on. It appeared to be a letter to the Gringotts Goblins.

_Dear Sirs;_

_I have returned to the Wizarding Realm, mission accomplished. A formal report shall be ready for submission tomorrow morning, and I await further instructions for a follow-up meeting. _

_However, there has been a discovery in regards to the protective measures applied to the high-security vaults. While this will be addressed in my forthcoming report, it may be worth discussing this point with you as soon as possible._

_I will be staying overnight at the Leaky Cauldron and can be contacted there._

_Yours, _

_W.F. Weasley Curse-Breaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank_

Christopher wagered that the discovery pertained to what he saw in the last page of the book and shuddered at the memory. He looked up to see the Wizard grinning down at him ruefully.

"So," he said, quietly as he tilted his nearly empty tankard back and forth gently, "what do you think?"

_It's, um... nice and official? _Christopher looked down at the parchment and back up at Bill, cocking his head slightly to the left.

"Yeah, I know, it's very formal. Quite boring, really. But that's the way it goes."

_I guess... I just hope the Goblins pick up on the importance of that thing with the book. _He re-read the letter before blinking at Bill.

He chuckled. "Well, now that I have your approval, I have a favor to ask of you."

_Hm. This could either be quite exciting, or really humiliating._

"As you know, we use owls to delver messages."

Christopher gave a mental sigh. _Humiliating it is._

"Since you have to get back to -" Bill cut himself off, glancing around the room before continuing. "Well, you have to get back home anyway, and the Goblins know about you, would you mind dropping this message off on the way? The Bank is hard to miss; it's the large white building that doesn't quite match the rest of the alley."

_If Katrin ever finds out about this, I will never live it down, _he thought. Not quite willing to blow his cover just yet, however poor a cover it was, Christopher blinked at Bill a few more times even as he held out his leg as he had seen other owls do. _I cannot believe I am actually doing this._

Bill grinned, folding his letter and placing a magical seal on the outside. He leaned in to Christopher, who was looking rather disgruntled, and whispered, "You know, considering you're not what I'd call a normal owl, I think it'd be perfectly acceptable for you to just carry it in your talons rather than require it to be tied onto your leg. I can easily put a shield against puncture on the parchment." He set the letter down on the table and muttered another spell before leaning back, grin never faltering.

_I suppose I'll have to wait until Katrin does the whole introduction thing to get back at you for this,_ he thought as he stepped onto and grasped it in his talons. _Although I can't say that I'm the most patient person, so you had better get a move on. _Realizing that this had the potential for deeper implications, he gave Bill a sharp glance. _But I better not hear of anything improper!_

"Hope I see you around sometime, Christopher," Bill said, giving the owl a small wave. "Maybe next time you'll let me in on your secret."

_Maybe. Maybe not._ He felt particularly mischievous. _You're not bad, though, Bill. A bit weird, but I guess that's to be expected._ Stretching just a bit, Christopher spread his wings and launched into the air, sweeping out a small window as he had seen other owls do and flying off in the direction of the Bank as swiftly as possible. Though he would have honestly enjoyed sitting around with Bill for a bit longer, he was anxious to finish this errand and get back home, letting his father know what he had found out.

Bill stared after him for a few minutes before shaking his head with another chuckle. _What next?_ he wondered, finishing the dregs of his Butterbeer. After arranging with Tom, barman and owner of the Leaky Cauldron, for a room, he went upstairs and threw his bag on the bed. Sitting at the table, he pulled out everything he needed to begin his report before grabbing a spare scrap of parchment. In doing so, he found the letter from Ron.

Seeing it reminded him that Ron mentioned the family was leaving the Burrow, but that he had not said where they would be going. Scribbling a quick note, he used one of the pub owls to send it to the Ministry to let his father know he was back in town and, hopefully, find out where his family was.

* * *

Katrin somehow managed to unlock the door and get inside without dropping anything. The Aunts had invited her over for breakfast, which was not so unusual a thing in and of itself. However, upon arriving at Alistair's, she found herself greeted with a rather large stack of brochures. They were all advertising various aspects and deals for traveling to Britain, England in particular. She was sent on her way a few hours later with the stack under one arm and a box with enough food to feed four people for lunch under the other.

Kicking the door shut behind her and her shoes off into the corner, she staggered over to her kitchen counter and deposited the load with a heavy sigh. Just as she thought she was home free, the stack of brochures and pamphlets tipped and they all spilled across the counter. In her surprise, she automatically lunged forward to scoop them up before they scattered across her kitchen floor. Though she saved the information from the Aunts, she ended up knocking the tome off the counter instead.

"Typical," she muttered, watching it skid to a halt by the fridge. "That's what I get for leaving it out, I guess. Good think I keep my floors clean." With another sigh, she rearranged the leaflets into a few small, less precariously balanced, piles. She then wandered around the counter, taking a glass out of a cupboard on the way to the fridge. She took a moment to pour herself a glass of juice before leaning down and grabbing the tome off the floor.

She only managed to gain hold of the cover, so it flipped open to the very back page as she lifted it. This page was covered in a strange drawing she spent a many hours staring at, but which still made little sense. Leaning back against the fridge, she leaned the open book against her stomach, turning it around with one hand so as to orient it properly as she took a rather large drink of juice.

Abruptly, she began choking on her half-swallowed juice. In the turning, she caught a glimpse of the drawing at an angle and a picture popped out of the mishmash of lines. She set down the glass and took the tome in both hands as she pushed herself off the fridge and walked back to the counter.

_This can't be what I think it is,_ she thought. _Surely not even the Goblins who had been sent Aboveground would be as cruel as this? I suppose it would certainly answer one question, but... _The thought gave her little comfort as she gave the tome a brief probe of magic, searching for the truth and hoping to find a lie. When what she found reinforced what she had seen in the picture, she threw the tome down on the counter as though it had caught on fire. She backed away from it, slowly, horrified.

She stood there, staring at it, for what seemed like hours though, in reality, only a few minutes had passed. Finally noticing her shallow, panicked breathing, she closed her eyes, trying to find calm. It was then that a wave of nausea hit her.

Katrin rushed to the bathroom. She stood at the sink, turning on the tap and splashing her face with cold water. She stood slightly, regarding her reflection in the mirror. _No,_ she thought, hoping that the denial might make it true. But as she looked down at her hands, hands that had held the tome countless times over the past days, she began shaking. Out of random desperation, she began scrubbing them, as though somehow mere soap and water would wash away the sensation that they were covered by a taint of filth. It did not take long before she was no longer able to remain in control of her body as another, stronger, wave of nausea passed over.

Half an hour later, she had finally calmed down enough to think. She sat on the bathroom floor, leaning against the cool marble of the tub. "I have to tell Dad," she said aloud. "The easiest way would be to just go back Underground, but he was seemed so adamant about me staying here." She shook her head, running her still shaking hands through her hair. Even if she had tried to make the journey, she was so shaken at the moment she was not sure she would have been able to exercise the proper control needed. "Shit. I'll just do what I am technically not supposed to and just conjure up a bloody crystal on my own. He _must_ know about this."

Slowly, she managed to stand up and made her way back to the kitchen.

* * *

Bill sat in the Board Room at Gringotts. Shortly after he had sent his letter to his father, a message arrived from his employers requesting an audience for that evening in regards to the information he mentioned in his note. So he quickly washed up and changed out of his traveling clothes before heading back to the Bank. Upon arrival, he had been shown into an empty room, though Frank and Crinklow had joined him soon after. They were now awaiting Queezink, who was apparently taking care of resolving the 'break in' from earlier.

Finally, Queezink came in. He made his apologies for making the others wait before seating himself. Frank turned to Bill.

"Well, Mr. Weasley," he began, "I suppose congratulations are in order for a job well done. Though, considering the circumstances, I am not entirely certain that a job so well done is what we were hoping for."

The irony dripped from the Goblin's voice, and Bill could only nod and smile wryly in response.

"Before we begin," continued Queezink, "I think we should tell you that under regular circumstances this meeting would have most certainly waited until after you had submitted your report, per usual procedure. The aftermath of your 'successful' break-in has the security department in uproar for we did not inform them of the possibility that you would arrive in the vaults."

"This is not due to any lack of faith in your abilities, you understand Mr. Weasley," added Frank. "If they had known of its possibility, their guard may have been relaxed. Although, as I mentioned before, there was always the possibility that you would not have been able to duplicate Quirrell's journey."

"Be that as it may, Frank," Queezink interrupted once more, "they are not entirely pleased. Some of them have expressed a desire to get their hands on the 'criminal' for questioning of their own. It would have been better for you," this he directed at Bill, "had you remained away for a few days."

Bill nodded again. "Yes, sir, I understand. However, I feel this small piece of information to be of great importance."

"Yes," Crinklow agreed. "A point reinforced by another who knows of what went on. It was his insistence that we address this issue immediately that convinced us."

_Another who knows? The only one I know of who knows is Christopher..._ The idea that someone else had supported Bill's request caught him off guard._ Do owls actually speak to Goblins, or had he passed on the information he saw that quickly?_

"So," continued Frank, "let us get what must be said out of the way quickly so you can be removed from the building as quietly as possible, yes?"

The other two Goblins nodded their assent so, without any ado, Bill plowed on. "As my report will show, it is not entirely certain that the journey I took, and the exact method with which I escaped, is that which Quirrell used. However, I know how he got into vault seven hundred and thirteen, one of the most highly secured vaults in the entire Bank, one that should have trapped him inside at the very attempt, and I know how he got out again completely unscathed."

* * *

Christopher flew over the Labyrinth to the Castle beyond the Goblin City. After returning Underground, he found he was not entirely certain how to broach the topic with his father. So, to buy himself a bit of time, he chose to fly most of the way rather than arrive on the doorstep. With magic adding speed to his wings, it was not much time, but it was enough to allow him to compose himself.

He arrived in his mother's gardens and transformed there. She was kneeling in the earth, pruning some low branches. Without looking up, she asked, "Back already? I should have thought you would be another day or two, perhaps spending some time Aboveground to learn more about this Magical Realm."

Technically, though her bond with his father granted her sensitivity to the magic of the Underground, she should not have been able to tell who it was that appeared behind her. Yet she had always been able to discern the identity of those who would come upon her unawares, especially her children. Both she and Jareth explained it away as being a 'knack of motherhood', though he and Katrin had always speculated there was more to it than that. He figured he would get to the bottom of it one of these days, but today was not going to be that day.

"Is Dad around?"

"I believe he is either in his study or the Throne Room, as he can usually be found in one of those places at this hour. Are you avoiding him again?"

"No. I need to talk to him though."

"Ah." She looked up at him when he made no motion to go. "Christopher?"

"What?" Her voice startled him back to the present. "Oh, right." He paused. "Actually, you should probably come along with me. I can't imagine he'll keep this from you, and I'd rather not have to tell it more than once."

Sarah's brow furrowed in concern. She regarded her eldest son momentarily before nodding. "As you wish." She peeled off her gardening gloves and extended a hand. Christopher helped his mother to rise, though little did she need it, then waited as she brushed soil and moss off her skirt. "Shall we poof there, or walk?"

Though he had grown up with her odd way of speaking about Fae magic, something he and his siblings had picked up in varying amounts, it still amused him to no end when she managed to make simple magical acts sound both extraordinary and ridiculous. He could not prevent his grin. "Let's just walk."

They took the back passages, arriving in Jareth's study in a few minutes. A servant was sent to let him know they were waiting to speak with him and Christopher spent the time describing what he had seen of the Magical Realm.


	41. Forty: And the Answer Revealed

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

**Chapter Forty: And the Answer Revealed**

Jareth leaned back in his throne with a sigh. Formal appeals and complaints were rare these days, so when issues arose they were generally ones needing careful attention and delicate answers. Though this particular audience had been granted early that afternoon, it had taken until the early evening before a solution could be reached that would bring the most satisfaction to all parties involved. The interruption of a footman arriving through a side door, one that went unnoticed to all save he, tempted him to push things along. However, he was able to reign in his impatience for the last half hour it took to get everything resolved.

As the door to the room closed behind the group of his subjects, he stretched and addressed the awaiting Goblin. "Is she waiting in my study?"

That Jareth would know who sent him was unsurprising. "Yes, Your Majesty," the Goblin answered with a bow. "As is His Highness."

"Ah, of course. Thank you." Jareth's gratitude, as it was whenever he gave it to those who worked in the Castle, was genuine. He felt the use of gratitude as dismissal rather unnecessary, especially in instances such as these wherein he simply vanished from sight. Still, the Goblin footman bowed to the empty room before letting himself out the door through which he entered to return to his position outside the door to Jareth's study.

Sarah looked up at her husband when he appeared in the chair behind his desk. "How did it go?" He kept little from his wife, and that which remained secret usually was done so either at the justified request from their children or with the intent to surprise. For her part, Sarah never demanded he tell her anything unless it was of great importance. This demonstration of trust early in their marriage enabled him to be completely open to her, a result that was unintended but deeply satisfying for both of them.

He shrugged. "Well enough, I suppose. Pointless disagreements allowed to escalate into minor wars between neighbors are never simple matters to resolve."

"No," she chuckled, "that they are not."

Christopher waited out the moment of intimate exchange, one that would seem light to an outsider. But to anyone in this household it was apparent that there was rarely an interaction between his parents that did not carry the depth of their union beneath it. He had long since grown past the age that told him to cringe in embarrassment at such displays and could watch such things with great admiration instead. He had seen enough of pretentious Fae interactions to have a deep appreciation for true passion.

"Your son," Sarah said, bringing the conversation to its pivotal point, "has something he wishes to tell you. And he has requested my attendance."

"Did he indeed?"

It was playful banter, this formal attitude between family members. Normally, Christopher would have joined in, regardless of the seriousness of the situation. It made the difficult bearable. In this instance, however, he found he was incapable of doing so. "I know how the Wizard broke into the vault all those years ago." The statement simply came out, not as he intended but not able to be prevented.

Jareth's eyebrow rose and he focused on his son. "Oh?" He saw, out of the corner of his eye, Sarah lean back in her chair to simply listen to the two converse, though she would interrupt with comments as she saw fit. "And what did you discover?"

"Well, to be fair, I didn't. Bill saw it first."

At the mention of the Wizard's name, Jareth's eyebrow rose another millimeter, amusing Sarah to no end but unnoticed by the other two.

"Very well. What was it?"

"The Goblins came to you in concern that this Dark Wizard of theirs was present for the Wizard Quirrell's journey through the Labyrinth, right?"

"Yes..."

"Well, I don't think that will either be proven or disproved simply through a recreation of his journey. I think with the information given in that tome, anyone of intelligence and skill could have made his or her way through to the doorway to the vaults. But one of the relevant problems is how he got into the vault in the first place, or so Bill explained when we got there."

"How so?"

"I guess the security measures on the vaults, specifically high security vaults such as the one broken into by Quirrell, can only be opened by Goblins. Now, I'm not sure if this is because of Goblin magic, or if it is because of a specific spell, but Quirrell was given a way around it. Sort of."

Jareth glanced at Sarah, who shrugged. "It makes sense to me," she said. "Though I still wait to be told how it was done."

Jareth turned back to Christopher, intending to ask him to continue when, without warning, a glowing ball appeared at the center of Jareth's desk. As it manifested into a crystal, he picked it up, concern evident. "Katrin?" he asked, sharply. "You know you are not supposed to personally conjure -"

"I know, I know," she interrupted. "But this is important."

"Why did you not simply come Underground in person, then?"

At the question from her mother, Katrin blinked. "Oh, hi Mom. I didn't want to risk it."

"Risk it?" At that, Christopher followed his mother's lead and they stood behind Jareth's chair to look into the crystal as well.

"Crikey, who all is there?"

"Just the three of us," answered Jareth. He was about to ask her to continue her explanation as to why she did not make the journey when Sarah spoke again.

"Dearest, you look terribly pale. Are you all right?"

Katrin nodded. "Yeah, I'm just a bit shaken, I guess. It's why I didn't want to risk coming Underground. I doubt anything would have gone wrong, but Dad always says to only make the journey when in complete control of one's powers, so..." She trailed off with a shrug.

"True," Jareth agreed. "What happened?"

"Well, I was going through the tome. Actually, I dropped - Ok, I threw it accidentally and came across this drawing that was on the back page."

Christopher interrupted her this time. "The one about the vault?"

"Yes, exactly. How did you-"

"The Gringotts Wizard representative," he was quite pleased he managed to remember not to say Bill's name aloud. "He figured out what it meant earlier this afternoon. I had just gotten back to tell Dad about it."

"Oh, right. Obviously I reacted a bit prematurely. Should I just go and let you get on with it then?"

Jareth sighed heavily, once more amusing Sarah. Every now and again he would display signs of impatience with their children that would remind her of when they had first met so many years ago. She spoke up before her husband could, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Why don't you let Christopher tell it, since it obviously bothers you so much, and you can fill in any blanks he leaves out."

Jareth reached up to grasp his wife's hand and smiled as she gave a gentle squeeze in return. "That would be fine. Since you have already made the connection it may as well be kept open. Chris?"

"Ok," Christopher continued where he left off. "So the high security vaults can only be opened by Goblins..."

* * *

"Are you absolutely certain about this, Mr. Weasley?" Though Crinklow was the only one to speak, all three Goblins were staring at Bill with the same intensity.

"Unfortunately, yes. If you were to retrieve the copy of the tome provided to me, which I left at the door to the vault and the guards picked up, you could examine the drawing for yourselves. The only way to verify with any certainty, of course, is to test the theory with the original tome. However, considering the nature of the protective spell on the vaults, there is no reason why it would not work."

The Goblins exchanged glances. "If this is true," Queezink said to the others, "then we have more than a mere security breech on our hands."

Frank snorted. "We suspected from the very beginning that this whole thing was more than a security breech. Had it been otherwise, we never would have followed through with this quest in the first place."

"That is entirely beside the point!" Queezink slammed his hand on the table. "This goes farther than we could have expected. Our worst suspicions were that the Dark Wizard may have discovered a way to enter the Underground unbidden. But this atrocity, this outrage? "

"Do you really believe that the two are not related?" Frank said, sharply. "That the Dark Wizard would not utilize such means in order to ensure his success? He inflicted vile punishments on those of his own kind. What makes you think the species of his victims would give him pause? Especially if it would mean gaining access to the kind of power found in the Underground?"

Crinklow coughed. "Gentlemen, this is hardly relevant to the issue at hand." He held up a forestalling hand at their immediate attempts to disagree. "Unless you have further questions for Mr. Weasley, perhaps we should have him escorted from the building discreetly and continue this discussion in private." The two other Goblins slowly nodded their agreement. "Very good." He turned to Bill once more. "We shall expect your full report tomorrow and will schedule a debriefing shortly thereafter, Mr. Weasley."

"Yes, sir." As he rose to leave the table, Crinklow rose as well.

"I will escort you out; I know this building well enough that we should be able to avoid some of the more persistent security guards with ease." Before the door to the Board Room closed behind them, Frank and Queezink could be heard picking up their argument once more. "I apologize for my colleagues," Crinklow said as they walked down a narrow hall. "While it would be best if we could be in constant agreement about, er, priorities, disturbing news such as this often brings dissension between even the most congenial."

"It is often said that the ability to cause dissent is one of You-Know-Who's greatest weapons, sir."

"Indeed, Mr. Weasley," Crinklow said. "I can only agree with that statement."

* * *

"You can imagine our relief when touching the tome to the door didn't open it," Christopher finished off brief his retelling of the events in the vaults.

Katrin's snort of indignation came across loud and clear from the crystal where it now sat on Jareth's desk. "How do you think I felt? I've been carrying the real thing around with me for days now!"

"Oh. Good point."

"You think?"

"Isn't it fascinating how even under the most distressing of circumstances, our eldest children still squabble like chickens?" Jareth commented to Sarah as their children continued to banter.

She moved from behind his chair to perch on an armrest, his arm encircling her waist. "Indeed. It is comforting to know some things never change."

He chuckled briefly before clearing his throat to stall the discussion "You two can finish this later. Or, rather, continue it. This discussion of yours has not ended since you discovered you were capable of having a conversation with each other. However, what I want to know right now is who did it?"

"Well," began Katrin, "as far as I can gather, the tome doesn't say. Its whole purpose is to get the user through to the vaults, not explain who put it together or why. My only guess would be one of these Gringotts Goblins, though why in the world they'd think to..." She visibly shuddered. "Eaugh."

"These Goblins were guilty of far worse before they ever became bankers," Jareth stated gently, resting his forehead against Sarah's shoulder.

"Very comforting, Dad," she responded dryly. He shot her a half grin.

"What about this Dark Wizard the delegates were going on about?" suggested Christopher. "The Wizard also mentioned him; actually he told me the whole story. Sounds like the kind of person who wouldn't hesitate to do this if it meant he would get what he wanted."

"Possible, but it is uncertain based on what we know," put in Jareth. "If it was him that implies two things: Firstly, that he knew how to open the high security vaults in advance, which is possible. And secondly, that he knew enough about our world to prepare the tome as well, which is also possible but not very likely. I suspect if he knew before, he would not have waited until his destruction to enter the Underground, and certainly not to merely use it as a traveling plane to get to the vaults."

"Unless he was not entirely aware that he _was_ in the Underground, as the Delegates suggested," offered Sarah.

"No. While this Quirrell person may not have been intelligent enough to know the difference, I cannot imagine one who cast such fear over the entire Magical Realm to be incapable of sensing the distinctive nature of the Underground."

Sarah snuggled closer into Jareth's embrace at that. "Hm."

"Well if it was just the first, then why not just kill a Goblin and take the body, or just a hand or something?" asked Christopher.

"Okay, that's the thing that creeps me out the most about this." Katrin shut her eyes and rubbed her temples as she spoke. "If you take a good look at the drawing, it explains the entire nature of the security spell. To open the vault, it needs to be touched by the hand of a _living _Goblin. Just a body part on its own wouldn't work. So, whoever did this didn't just cover this book with the skin of one of their people. They somehow incorporated the life essence of the victim within the very pages. It's clever, much as I hate to admit it." She opened her eyes and looked at her father. "I mean, I only did a brief probe, and you'd be able to tell better than I in any case. But I think what happens is that the upon encountering the spell, the essence within the book sort of mingles with or coats that of the person holding it, in effect convincing the door that the person standing there is actually a Goblin instead of a human or whatever."

"Shit," Christopher muttered.

"Yeah, that's what I said."

Jareth sat bolt upright during their exchange, nearly knocking Sarah off the armrest. She gave him a concerned look as he snatched up the crystal. "Katrin, where is the tome now?"

She pointed next to her, grimacing slightly. "Right here."

"I'll be right there to get it."

"Um, ok. Does that mean I should go now?"

"Yes. And don't touch it."

"Believe me, I don't plan to. Well, bye then, family." She waved and the crystal disappeared with a tiny pop.

"Jareth?" Sarah asked as she stood, moving to lean on the desk as he rose as well.

"I need to take a closer look at the tome myself, and I have no desire to allow something like that to remain Aboveground. Most certainly not in the dwelling of my child. While it does not sound as though it is still sentient, I am taking no chances."

She paled. "If the book is basically alive, then why weren't you able to sense this before? You flipped through it as well when we were in the antechamber, remember?"

He wiggled his fingers at her. "Formal regalia means gloves."

"Oh, of course. I always forget about that."

"I shall return shortly. We'll have to continue the discussion about the implications of this later. Chris, I'd like you here when I examine the tome."

"Sure thing, Dad."

"Are you bringing Katrin home as well?"

Jareth sighed. "No. Much as I would rather have her here, this whole development may require more meetings with the Gringotts Goblins, and possibly an interview with the Wizard."

"You're going to bring Bill here?"

"Possibly. And if that is the case, I'd rather not have them meet."

Sarah crossed her arms. "_Jareth_."

He placed his fingers over her lips. "I know, I know. I'm not supposed to interfere. But she is Fae and he is a Wizard. She only just found out about the existence of the Magical Realm and likely assumes he is simply a Mortal."

Christopher interrupted, "Yeah, and he had no idea about the Fae until sent here by the Goblins and thinks she is simply a Mortal as well."

"Exactly," Jareth continued. "It is not that I do not want them to meet again." At Sarah's raised eyebrow, he smiled. "You know what I mean. In any case, I think it would be better if they were able to tell each other about their true natures on their own, not have it sprung on them because of this whole problem."

"Hm." Sarah continued to regard him dubiously. "Very well. But you are the one who gets to explain to her the necessity for this charade when it all blows up in your face."

"I accept full responsibility, my love." He kissed her gently before making the journey Aboveground.

When he was gone, Christopher turned to his mother, who stood there staring at the spot Jareth had occupied moments before and shaking her head. "Do you really think it is going to blow up in his face?"

She gave him a sideways glance and grinned. "Oh, naturally. This sort of thing always does. He is not being completely honest, though he is not lying outright. However, as long as he does not appear to be deliberately trying to keep them apart, in Katrin's eyes at least, she'll probably just rail at him for a few hours, make him feel terribly guilty, and then all will be well."

"Hm." He thought about that for a moment. "I don't think I'll get off that easily."

Sarah chuckled. "No, probably not."

"Oh well," he shrugged. "It's still much more fun this way."

Sarah laughed outright at that. "Oh, Chris. You are just as bad as your father!"


	42. Forty One: Moving Right Along

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

**Chapter Forty-One: Moving Right Along**

Katrin looked down at the tome where it lay on her kitchen counter. Not particularly wanting to look at it, her eyes gravitated toward the bag of lunch and the stack of brochures from the Aunts. She blinked at them, wondering what they were doing there, then she jumped. "Cripes!" Spinning in a circle twice, she scanned the vicinity for a place to hide them before her father arrived. Explaining a trip to England to him was not precisely what she felt up to doing at the moment.

She settled for the drawer underneath her oven, nothing residing there save the lids for her pots and pans, and had just shoved it closed with her foot when her father appeared in the middle of the kitchen. "Hey, what kept you?" Katrin vaguely wondered if her attempt at casual was coming across as badly as _his_ attempts at casual frequently appeared.

"Your mother, actually."

"Shame. I was hoping you were going to say it was Chris; it would have given me a reason to have it out with him."

"Since when have the two of you needed reasons?" he responded with a cheeky grin. Taking a quick glance around, he caught sight of the tome.

"Generally we don't, but it is always better to have a few back-ups just in case you and Mother decide to get involved." She watched as he walked over and flipped through a few of the pages with one gloved hand before returning it to the drawing on the last page. "Why are you all dolled up in your Official Goblin King duds? Surely visiting me does not merit such grandeur."

"There was a formal audience with some of my subjects this afternoon that lasted longer than expected. I did not bother taking the time to change them before meeting with your mother and Chris since I had already kept them waiting." For all his magical abilities, Jareth rarely changed clothes instantaneously, much preferring to dress himself the traditional way. He gestured at the page. "Is this the drawing?"

"Yes. But you have to look at it from a bizarre angle to actually see the picture. Here." She crossed over and turned the tome, pushing it with one finger. "See?"

Jareth's eyebrows flew up. "Indeed." Shaking his head with a sigh, he shut the tome and tucked it under one arm. With a flick of his free hand, a crystal appeared. He set it in her fruit bowl where it turned into an orange to match the lone grapefruit already there.

"Aw, it has a friend," she grinned.

"There are days, you precious thing, that I seriously wonder whose child you truly are. You surpass even your mother in your singularity. Give us a call if you need anything."

"You're lucky I'm yours, through and through, father dearest, otherwise I'd tell her you said that."

He chuckled and kissed her on the cheek. "She probably already knows. Stay out of trouble."

"Will do." She waved at him as he faded away. As she stood there, wondering what to do next, her stomach growled impatiently. "Oh, shush," she told it, even as she moved to unpack the food from the Aunts. Sticking something of everything on a plate and popping a carrot in her mouth, she retrieved her brochures from the drawer. Then, plate and travel information in hand, she went over to her sofa to eat her lunch.

* * *

When Bill arrived back at the Leaky Cauldron, he saw his father seated at the counter chatting with Tom. "Dad! When did you get here?"

"Oh, not too long ago," Arthur Weasley answered.

"Right, well let me go upstairs and put away my stuff, and I'll come down and join you."

"Actually, I'll just go up with you. No need to continue to monopolize Tom's time."

"Oh, don't you worry about that, Mr. Weasley," Tom said congenially as he polished some tankards. "Always enjoy a visit."

Father and son went upstairs and Arthur shut the door behind him. He sat on the edge of the bed as Bill set his bag on the table and dropped into the chair. "So, Dad," he began, "Ron sent me an owl."

Arthur shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, he shouldn't have done that, really."

"Well, I'd rather have been told about it than to come home and find the place deserted."

"It was more the fact that you were on a mission than that we were not planning on telling you. And at the time, things were happening so quickly, we really didn't have opportunity to plan."

Bill remembered the entirety of Ron's owl. "Dad, what went on, exactly?"

"Oh, just a disagreement over what really is important in life." At that, Arthur looked directly at his son. When Bill made to ask further, he shook his head ever so slightly. "Nothing worth worrying over _now_."

_I take that to mean we aren't supposed to talk about it here, then_, Bill thought._ But when? Or, more precisely, where?_ "I was thinking I'd come over for dinner tomorrow evening after work."

"Your mother would love it if you would." He reached inside his robe and pulled out a small scrap of paper. "And before I forget, a mutual friend of ours asked that I give this to you. It's a reminder for something he doesn't want you forget."

Bill raised an eyebrow and opened it. Printed in narrow handwriting, it read simply:

_The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London._

Bill's other eyebrow popped up. "That should be easy enough," he said casually. "Did he say he wanted me to keep this?"

"Not particularly."

"Right then." Bill set fire to it with the tip of his wand and let it fall in the metal waste basket.

"Why don't you just come tonight? The Leaky Cauldron isn't busy as it is mid-week, and I'm sure Tom wouldn't mind you canceling the room."

"I would, but I have to head over to Gringotts early tomorrow morning anyway to file my mission report. And I still have to actually _do_ my mission report, which won't really get done if I'm spending the whole evening talking to everyone about... things."

"Well, that's true. Then how about I meet you here after work tomorrow; we can head over together."

Had Bill not been aware of the seriousness underneath the whole situation, he would have found the impersonal and slightly formal conversation he was having to be quite laughable. As it was, he could only reply, "Sounds like a plan then, Dad. Say hi to Mum for me."

"Of course, son." Arthur rose and, with a shrug, gave a quick wave before letting himself out of the room.

As the door closed, Bill sighed and shook his head. "Just when you think things can't get any more secretive and complicated, someone else adds another angle," he told the ashes in the waste basket. With another sigh, he turned in the chair and pulled out a roll of parchment to begin his report.


	43. Forty Two: Excerpts Over Time

_Updated for grammar & spelling: March 10, 2011; checked for continuity: April 4, 2011._

**Chapter Forty-Two: Excerpts Over Time**

_To: Katrin [__FireyFairey(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_From: Bill [__IndianaWeasley(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_Subject: Hello again_

_Date: Thurs, 13 August - 05:17:43_

_Katrin,_

_How are you doing? It may have seemed as though I disappeared off the face of the earth, but as luck would have it I'm still here! I just got back the other day and then got swamped with writing up my reports, going to business meetings, and family matters._

_I won't bore you with the details, but the end result is I've moved to London. My parents have some business here in town and have taken up residence, bring the herd of young Weasleys along with. They're in need of both my help and support, so I joined the crew. Which fell in line nicely with my decision to take up a desk job at the bank. It isn't nearly as exciting as all the traveling around I used to do, but here is where I need to be right now._

_I hope everything is going well with you and that I hear from you soon._

_Yours,_

_Bill_

* * *

_To: Bill [__IndianaWeasley(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_From: Katrin [__FireyFairey(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_Subject: Welcome back!_

_Date: Thurs, 13 August, - 21:02:59_

_Heya, Indy!_

_London, eh? That's pretty cool. What does your new place look like? Color scheme? (I'm such a girl, I know.)_

_So... how long will it take before you become acclimatized enough to play tour guide? The Aunts decided I am not well-traveled enough and are planning my trip to the British Isles after the Faire Season ends. It is impossible to argue with them, so I guess I'll go. Not that I mind, of course. :-D_

_I've returned back to my place. It was a fairly short trip home, in comparison. Things mostly got resolved and they didn't need me for anything. Dad fairly threw me out the front door, which I suppose is rather suspicious if I give it any amount of thought. Mayhap I should do some investigating on the issue._

_Not this weekend, however. I've got to get packed. I playing another faire this weekend and the journey will take me far and wide. As they generally do._

_Take care and have a great weekend!_

_Katrin_

_"What happens to the holes when the Swiss cheese is eaten?" - Bertolt Brecht_

* * *

_To: Katrin [__FireyFairey(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_From: Bill [__IndianaWeasley(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_Subject: Re: Welcome back!_

_Date: Mon, 17 August - 05:11:16_

_Good morning!_

_How was the faire? When does the faire season get over? It sounds mightily exclusive to have a whole season of the year just for you performers._

_I'm settling in well enough, or at least as well as can be expected. The house we're living in isn't quite what you would call in pristine condition. Quite frankly, it's rather neglected. The man who owns it, who is a friend of the family, only just reopened the place when it became apparent that we'd need somewhere. He's living there as well, along with a few more of my parents' colleagues. My mother has designated herself as the commander in chief when it comes to cleaning the place, and as he can't really go out much so he's part of her crew. So are my four youngest siblings and Hermione, one of Ron's friends from school. Luckily, I have a job to go to during the day and don't have the luxury of getting roped into her plans._

_I'm not too certain about color schemes, but as for what the house looks like ..._

_To: Bill [__IndianaWeasley(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_From: Katrin [__FireyFairey(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_Subject: sometimes i hate mondays_

_Date: Tues, 18 August, - 01:37:44_

_... not only that, but it ended up taking three times as long to get back! I'm absolutely exhausted and am not certain if I'll ever be dry again._

_Ok, even though that house you're living in sounds pretty big, how do so many people manage to fit in comfortably?_

_Oh, and technically the season is year round, but for me it ends generally around mid-September. Mostly, it depends on where you live. When the leaves begin to change around here is when I know it is time for me to head home for the winter. ... Hm... Makes me sound like I migrate or something._

_I'm due to have lunch with the Aunts this afternoon, but I don't know if I'll be able to drag myself out of bed. They're a bit concerned about Alistair. Apparently he's been acting strange, disappearing for hours on end. I'm not too sure what the fuss is about. I mean, technically, he is a stray. And it isn't as though he's missing for days. Aunt Sheryl mentioned something about sighting another cat in the area and the debate is raging as to whether it is a male trying to spread his territory, or a female looking for a boyfriend. I think the Aunts need a new hobby._

_Which reminds me, I'm supposed to ask you for the recipe to 'a traditional English dessert', preferably a 'tasty Christmas pudding.' Why they want one it is beyond me, but I suspect ..._

* * *

_To: Katrin [__FireyFairey(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_From: Bill [__IndianaWeasley(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_Subject: Yet another addition_

_Date: Wed, 19 August - 05:18:22_

_... and after much ado he arrived yesterday. Ron and Hermione have been particularly anxious about the whole thing, so they should stop fretting. Harry has been understandably frustrated being cooped up and away from everyone for half the summer holiday. That his two best friends had spent a few weeks together, seemingly having fun without him, had to chafe. Hopefully he isn't placing all the blame on them._

_My dislike for doing paperwork has successfully increased to abhorrence. Or, perhaps, sheer loathing. I now know what happened to all those reports I'd have to do before; I'm the one processing it all. That, in addition to all the extra 'new' stuff, means form upon form. Still, it is nice to be close to my family for more than a week or two between months of absence. And I have a rather unique supervisor now. He is what I would call of few words. He grunts and gestures more than voicing actual sentences. Or even phrases!_

_No, even living in London we still do not have, oh what did you call it, Internet access? at the house. Mum wouldn't be too keen on having a computer around. She really is not interested in technology. So I head down to an Internet cafe each morning before work instead. It means heading out early, but ..._

* * *

_To: Bill [__IndianaWeasley(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_From: Katrin [__FireyFairey(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_Subject: Re: One less problem to worry about!_

_Date: Thurs, 20 August, - 16:09:57_

_... The government got involved with whether or not he should be suspended over something that happened during the summer at his home? I know I'm foreign and everything, but that sounds a bit too outrageous. What in the world did he do?_

_So I was thinking last night about how Hermione has spent two summers now at the house with your brother and Harry. I can only imagine my father's reaction had I made the request to do such a thing at that age. The very idea that I speak to members of the opposite sex, regardless of circumstances, is still rather questionable even now. Maybe he is a bit more over-protective than the rest, though._

_This time I head West for the weekend. Wish me better luck in the weather department than the last time I did so! According to all the reports, we should expect sun, sun, sun. And I've packed the water-proof cloak in hopes that, by being extra prepared, I won't have any problems. Good weather would be a plus for the Faire itself, too, I suppose, as it is brand new and rain all weekend would ..._

* * *

_To: Katrin [__FireyFairey(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_From: Bill [__IndianaWeasley(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_Subject: Re: The sun prevailed!_

_Date: Tues, 25 August - 05:08:54_

_... and would my father ever love to talk to you about this camping every weekend business. It isn't so much the actual camping as it is the things you camp with. He would be like a child in a toy shop, and probably drive Mum absolutely batty with what he'd attempt to recreate on his own!_

_Yes, the War Against Dirt continues to wage at the house. I would not have thought it was a battle worth fighting to the extent she goes at it, but Mum is determined! And woe betide any of us who dare to oppose her. At least openly._

_It would not surprise me in the least to find out Fred and George have been stashing away some of the more interesting finds for extensive examination at a later date. Those two are up to something, not that this should be news to any of us, and I think their plan will fall into motion as soon as they finish school this coming spring. Their dream the last few years has been to open a joke shop of some sort, much to my mother's dismay. But not everyone is cut out for the normal, run of the mill type careers. Still ..._

* * *

_To: Bill [__IndianaWeasley(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_From: Katrin [__FireyFairey(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_Subject: Re: Good news_

_Date: Thurs, 27 August, - 10:48:03_

_... While I still am dumbfounded at the extent of these disciplinary hearings - for all that you say it is not the norm - I am glad that your brother's friend is home free. What a terrible time it must have been to have that sort of weight hanging over your head so shortly before the return to school was scheduled! I wonder how much of a welcome distraction all that cleaning must have been._

_I'm going to my first Highland Games this weekend. That probably sounds so old hat to you, considering. I mean, with all your travels, surely you made it up to one of the real things at some point? Maybe? Anyway, I'm a bit nervous. It's absolutely ridiculous for me to be so; it can't be that far in schematics from a Ren Faire, can it?_

_I'm not quite sure how I managed to get myself into this completely blind, either. The Faire I usually do this weekend went out of business last year, sadly, so I found myself with an open date. One of the merchants mentioned the Games, and I figured I'd give it a shot. But somehow in the hustle of the year, I never really got around to researching what would be needed of me beyond the contract and other paperwork. How's that for being the organized and put-together performer, eh? I just hope it isn't a disaster that I'll never be able to live down! Thank goodness I've got that stock-pile of Scottish folk songs as well, not to mention …_

* * *

_To: Katrin [__FireyFairey(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_From: Bill [__IndianaWeasley(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_Subject: An empty house_

_Date: Fri, 07 September - 05:11:02_

_... but they all got on the train in one piece and with all their luggage. Which, really is the first step in the right direction for a positive year. Ron may need all the help he can get, what with Fred and George likely to continue giving him a hard time about being Prefect. They often say only prats become Prefects, which doesn't say much for what they think of me. But I'm sure their vehemence stems, in part at least, from Percy's views on power and responsibility._

_As much as I'd like to hold with your hopeful sentiments, I can't see a reconciliation coming any time soon. Percy really crossed the line this time and, for all that he is my brother, I remain on my parents' side. Not just out of a sense of familial duty, but out of the sincerest belief that they have the right of things. The tragedy of it, in my opinion, is that Percy has not only been misguided by his employer's beliefs. Rather, he has fallen victim to the belief that one's worth as a person is directly related to his social and, what is worse, economic situation. Had he not held such a thing as truth, this whole situation may never have arisen, regardless of his ambitions._

_It breaks Mum's heart that one of her own has so carelessly abandoned the values she and Dad tried to instill in each of us. I have a feeling it may get worse now that the rest of their brood has gone off to school once again. With Charlie still in Romania, I'm the only one left in town, so I think I'll be putting off finding a place of my own one more time. Which is fine; there's plenty of room here, really, and ..._

* * *

_To: Bill [__IndianaWeasley(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_From: Katrin [__FireyFairey(a)unknowndotcom__]_

_Subject: When did life become so complex?_

_Date: Sun, 16 September, - 07:19:19_

_... It's getting to the point that I find myself wondering if my parents have lost their minds. My father keeps insisting that I don't need to come home, not even briefly during the week, and he's giving those (not-so) subtle hints that perhaps I should extend my stay here for a bit longer than normal before returning home for winter. (Again with the migratory implications!) He doesn't know that I'm going on vacation anyway; I spoke to my mother about it and she advised against it. Something about keeping him guessing and on his toes. The grin on her face told me I had best simply follow her instructions without ado. The worrying bit about her is I'm not entirely sure who it is that she's plotting against! And as for Dad... Well, it's such a complete 180 from his normal behavior, if his behavior could ever be called normal._

_The Aunts laughed at me when I expressed my concerns. They told me it is probably all in my head, and if not then I should take full advantage of the situation. How, exactly, one is supposed to do this is beyond me._

_Aunt Jen loved that recipe, by the way. Though she reprimands you for taking so long to get it to me. Sometimes, there is no pleasing those women! For then she reprimanded me for not reminding you more frequently. Which set Aunt Bree off on a tangent that if she wanted it that badly then she should have pestered me about it sooner. And then Aunt Sheryl got into it as well. Aunt Nell just grinned as she opened a bag of marshmallows and started building snowmen with them. Something about practicing for the festive season. They're all nuts. Loveable, but nuts._

_This may seem a bit random, but I don't suppose you could explain the whole Prefect thing to me? Is it singular to the way things work at boarding schools over there, or is all of Britain's school system working on this system? Fred and George might not make much of it, but it sounds so fancy to my ears. ..._


	44. Forty Three: Plans Unfold

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

**Chapter Forty-Three: Plans Unfold**

"Actually, I'm not going to be moving back to the Burrow." Bill interrupted his mother before she got too involved in her plan making for the move out of London. Silence and blank stares met his announcement, though these quickly gave way to open curiosity.

"Nonsense, Bill," Molly waved her hand. "With the boys and Ginny off at school, there will be more than enough room."

"It isn't a question of space, Mum. Staying in town will be much more convenient."

"Sirius has been most generous in allowing us to stay during the summer, but you cannot just invite yourself to stay on."

"Bill is more than welcome to stay here for as long as he likes. As are you." This last was almost an afterthought, tone devoid of all emotion. "As you know, this house is at the disposal of the Order in any capacity. Whether that means a place for meetings, a place for respite between missions, or even long-term residence, I am perfectly at ease with people here."

"That's very kind of you, however -"

"Before you two get into it again, I'm not going to be staying here either." Once again, there was silence at the dinner table. Bill mentally sighed. "Much as I appreciate the invitation Sirius, Headquarters for the Order doesn't make for the best place to, er, receive visitors."

"Oh." Molly was slightly taken aback. She looked to her husband for support, but Arthur seemed to be busy grinning over some secret matter as he served himself another helping of meatballs. Remus and Sirius, for that matter, were also exchanging rather amused glances. _Why do I feel as though I have missed something? _"Well, you would be more than welcome to bring friends home to the Burrow."

This time, Bill's sigh was audible. "I know that, Mum. But as I said before, London is more convenient in general. It's closer to work, and anyone I'd know would be in London already."

"Hm. Well, if you're determined," she paused, and Bill nodded. "Have you begun looking for a place yet? I believe I saw some for let and lodging signs in Diagon Alley when I went to get school supplies. And there is that section in _The Daily Prophet_ that -"

"No, Mum." Bill knew this was going to be a challenge, though he had not expected to have this conversation in front of other members of the Order. _At least they are all friends. _"I'm actually looking for a flat in Muggle London."

"_Muggle _London?" Molly sputtered, and everyone at the table dropped all pretense of ignoring the conversation and peered at her eldest son. "But, Bill..."

* * *

"So when do you leave?"

"Next Thursday." Katrin thought her mother was taking the concept of her trip to England far too well. Katrin squinted at the crystal. "Why are you so calm about your eccentric daughter flying across the globe to visit a guy she has only met twice?"

Sarah laughed. "Oh, a few reasons, I suppose. One: I'm not your father and am well aware you are both competent and quite independent. Two: Were I to react any other way, I likely would not get any details at all. Three: I had a feeling you would do something like this from the moment you mentioned England in the first place. And four: Well, to be honest, it is precisely the sort of thing I would have done."

"You would have gone haring off to a foreign country after a couple encounters and a mass of emails?"

She laughed again. "Ok, so it was more than once and email was not involved. But I did end up in the Underground rather frequently for all that your father's and my courtship had barely begun."

"Yeah, but Dad was obvious in his intentions. I'd hardly call this a courtship in comparison, mother."

"Not everyone has the means of being as dashingly suave and debonair as your father, Katrin. Being one of the High Fae and possessing an abundance of magic and power enabled him to arrange the circumstances to his liking and in the best way possible."

"Hm... I guess that's true." Katrin leaned back against her kitchen counter. "And I also guess that if someone did so for me I'd be more inclined to think less of him for making it easy on himself."

Sarah giggled. "Oh, I don't doubt that. But don't let your father hear you suggest he took the easy route."

"I'm sure he'd merely suggest that in deciding to court you he ruled out the easy route right away," she scoffed.

"Probably."

"Where is he, anyway? I would like to be brave and break this travel news of mine to him myself."

Sarah sighed. "He's off reconstructing the Labyrinth."

"What, still? He's been at it for... how long now?"

"More than two weeks. I'm hoping he'll return any day now."

"Yeah..."

There was a brief silence before Sarah grinned. "But it's no use fretting over it. He knows what he's doing, and when he returns I'll tell him of your escapades in the most gentle of ways."

"Somehow that isn't reassuring at all."

"Where will you be staying?"

"At The Mad Hatter. It's an inn connected to a Pub chain."

"I can't say as I'm surprised, but why not the Ritz or the Savoy or something swanky like that?"

"Are you kidding? This one is within ten minutes walking distance of the Globe!"

"Girl after my own heart. Is a certain someone picking you up at the airport."

It was Katrin's turn to giggle. "No, he has to work. Which is fine because I scrimped on the plane tickets so I've got layovers from hell and will be in dire need of freshening up upon arrival. So I spent the money I saved on the tickets on luxury car service to my hotel. I won't have to carry my bags!"

"Because that extra expense on top of a direct flight first class would really have broken the bank."

"I generally prefer being, you know, rustic."

"Right." Sarah shook her head in amusement. "So when _are_ you going to see Bill? I assume you're not only going to London for the luxury car service."

"We're meeting for breakfast on Saturday, and then take it from there I guess."

"Mm. Very spontaneous of you."

* * *

Bill flopped down on the bed with a huge sigh. He had refused to answer any of his mother's rather determined questions regarding his insistence on living in Muggle London. On top of that, he had refused to be persuaded otherwise. This had set Molly into an increasingly disgruntled mood for the rest of dinner. His father, thankfully, had been equally unhelpful to her cause, much to her dismay. The rest of the small dinner party did little to hide their amusement, though they all refrained from direct involvement.

Reaching into his satchel that lay on the floor next to the bed, he pulled out a copy of _Loot_, a Muggle publication with advertisements of all sorts, including information about flats to let and lodging opportunities. He had spent most of his free time the past week getting everything in order and registering at an estate agency. This included setting up a Muggle bank account, easy enough for him to do with his connections at Gringotts. While Muggle banks were anything but aware of the bank for Magical folk, Gringotts kept tabs on their non-Magical counterparts if for no other reason than to ensure the exchange rates for Muggle and Wizarding money were appropriate. Bill was not the first Wizard to require an outside bank account; working for Gringotts only made the paperwork process all the faster.

The real tough spot with the estate agency was his lack of a telephone. After an awkward conversation with a clerk at the Internet cafe, Bill found his way to a little shop and purchased something called a Pay-As-You-Go mobile. He put twenty 'quid' on his account, all the while wondering how 'pounds' became 'quids' as well as what a 'quid' was exactly, hoped he set up his answer phone correctly, and finally was able to complete his paperwork at the estate agency. His agent, Daniel, would probably find something soon, but in the meantime he would continue to look on his own.

Bill was hoping to have his own place by the time Katrin arrived at the end of next week. He did not really expect her to want to come inside, especially as he would not have any chairs to sit on, but this way he could at least tell her where it was without any difficulty.

He perused the ads diligently, not finding much, when someone knocked on the door. "Come in," Bill called, tossing the paper aside.

Sirius came in, shutting the door behind him before lounging on a stool in the corner. He grinned lazily, a twinkling in his eye that had been somewhat absent since the kids, namely Harry, had left for Hogwarts. "Well done, mate," he said, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back.

Bill blinked. He and Sirius always got on well, though they generally had little contact outside of business with the Order and dinner because of Bill's work. "Sorry?"

The grin on Sirius' face widened. "I said 'well done'. Who is she?"

Bill could only blink again. "Sorry?"

At that, Sirius chuckled. "Between your elusive answers and that grin on your dad's face, it was easy enough to figure out that the sole reason you are needing to move out, and to Muggle London no less, has to do with the fact that you met a girl. And a Muggle girl at that."

"Oh." He pondered that for a while. "Well, yeah. I did. And she has no idea I'm a Wizard." _Yet_, he thought, uncertain of how long he would be willing to keep something this important a secret.

"Ha!" Sirius barked. "Moony owes me a Galleon. He figured it was a Witch from a Muggle family and not much access to our World. So why the reluctance to just flat out say so? It would have led to a whole new line of questioning, I'm sure, but at least you would have been able to relax about your decision."

Bill shrugged, sitting up on the bed and echoing Sirius' position. "I guess I'd rather wait until I know there is anything worth telling. She's an American, actually. Met her when I went on vacation earlier this summer."

"Ha! Another Galleon. Always knew I should have pursued Divination. And I suppose she's coming to visit and that explains the sudden need to move out?"

"Why, do you get another Galleon if the answer is yes?"

"No, I'm just curious on that note."

"In that case, yes, she is. Later next week."

"Brilliant." Grin still in place, Sirius stood and moved to the door. He stopped, hand on the knob, before opening it and looked over his shoulder. "And just so you know, I'm not offended in the slightest that you're not staying on. If it doesn't work out, you're always welcome back. And if it does," he sobered marginally, "well, good on you for finding someone amid all this chaos. Explaining it all may end up being the easiest part." He looked as though he meant to add something else, but seemingly changed his mind at the last moment. With a final nod, Sirius nipped out the door before Bill could respond.

Bill stared at the door for many minutes pondering Sirius' parting remarks.

* * *

Tossing the crystal back in the fruit bowl, where it promptly changed into a kumquat, Katrin rolled her shoulders. She strolled over to the fridge and pulled out a carton of orange juice. Not bothering to grab a glass, she opened the carton on her way to the living room. Flopping down on the couch, she took a deep swig of juice.

Though she would never admit it aloud, Katrin was rather nervous about her forthcoming trip. She enjoyed having a good time and meeting new people, but this was a limb she had never ventured out upon before. Much to her chagrin, those close to her had figured it out. Naturally, they confronted it in different ways. Her mother teased in a roundabout way. The Aunts frequently ganged up together; Katrin had to suspect whether they planned their attack in advance. Only this morning, however, when Katrin stopped in at Alistair's for a slice of pie, Nell fixed her with a piercing stare for a full minute before spouting off her piece.

"Someone once said something to me that you might find reassuring," she had said. "If a man tells you he'll call, he won't. But if he says he wants to see you again, he means it." With that, she gave Katrin a pat on the shoulder and went off to find out if there was any turkey sliced. While this did not completely boost Katrin's confidence in her decision, she was somehow reassured that all would turn out well.

Setting the carton on the table beside her, Katrin's thoughts turned once again to how things had played out with Bill up to this point. This, of course, led to her pondering what would happen once they met again. She folded her hands behind her head and stretched out so her feet were propped up on the armrest on the other end of the couch. As she drifted off, her final thoughts lingered around how to avoid complete disaster when she introduced him to her parents, namely her father, for the first time.


	45. Forty Four: Crossing the Ocean

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

**Chapter Forty-Four: Crossing the Ocean**

_Whose stupid idea was it to go for the itinerary that would take you there in the most inconvenient and roundabout way?_ Katrin found herself asking for the umpteenth time. _Oh, _that's_ right... YOU did! Very clever of you, Katrin._ Thoroughly exhausted and undeniably uncomfortable, she rolled her shoulders, popped her neck, and made her way down the last aisle of the last plane to her last seat on the last flight in her journey.

Arranging her nest in the window seat, she pulled out a book from her carry-on bag before shoving it under the seat in front of her. With a sigh, one of mixed relief and exasperation, she adjusted the pillow behind her neck and closed her eyes.

At a sharp, "Ow!" coming from the aisle, she cracked an eyelid. A young woman was struggling to put her bag in the overhead compartment. With a final shove, it moved into place and she, in turn, slid into the seat beside Katrin.

"You know those measuring containers at the check-in desks?" she asked conversationally. "The ones you are supposed to be able to fit your bag into in order to make sure it is small enough to carry on the plane? What a waste of scrap metal. I can never get the things to fit right in these small spaces no matter how easily they go into those stupid containers." She buckled herself in and tied back her hair before turning to Katrin again. "By the way, hello. I'm Anja."

Always pleased to meet new people, Katrin opened the other eye and smiled. "Hi, I'm Katrin."

"Fly often?"

"No. This is my first time, actually. Well, not really my first flight, but my first trip via planes."

"Layovers?" At Katrin's nod, Anja rolled her eyes. "Figures. So what, you get around as nature intended up till now? You know, in a car?"

Katrin grinned. "Well, more or less."

"Cool. So where's your final destination?"

"After this one, the last of four flights, I end up in London."

"_Four?_" At Katrin's nod, Anja just shook her head. "Crikey. You must _really_ want to get there."

"There is that, but I can be far too thrifty for my own good at times. I have no real reason to be, but there it is. What about you? Where are you headed?"

"The same, though in a meagre two legs. I'm in a mini-exchange program sort of thing where various colleges send some of their techs off for a two week workshop at one of the Really Useful Theatre group theatres."

"Sounds like something my mother would have enjoyed. She majored in Drama back in the day. Had to do something of everything in order to graduate."

"Gotta love the liberal arts program. So what are you crossing the great divide for?"

"It's a combination of wanting to play tourist and meeting up with a friend of mine."

"Casual friend or _friend_ friend?" she asked with a meaningful waggle of her eyebrows.

Katrin giggled. "At this point, I'd have to say somewhere in between."

"Ah ha. Did you meet on the Net or something? Not," she added quickly, "that there's anything wrong with that."

"No, we actually met briefly over the summer. I guess you could say we just hit it off really well and, since it was his vacation that brought him out my way in the first place, I figured I'd return the favor."

"Oh ho! You're willing to take a vacation in order to meet someone you met while he was on vacation? Honey, give me details!"

"It's not that exciting a tale, really..."

"Eh, we have a long flight ahead of us and I'm not in the mood to sleep yet. So, come on, entertain me. If the story gets boring, just make something up!"

At such a command, Katrin could not help laughing and dutifully obliged her fellow passenger.

* * *

"We're about 15 minutes ahead of schedule, so that will give us a landing time of 8:32am. It is currently 17 degrees out at Gatwick this morning, that's about 63 Fahrenheit for those of you from the colonies. And with clear skies forecast for the next few days we'll be looking at a beautiful weekend in here in London."

"And here I thought I'd see nothing but rain and fog my whole stay," Katrin muttered as the pilot continued his pre-landing announcements. "How disappointing." There was a snort of laughter from her flight companion. Katrin, still amused by this for all that it had happened a few times before on the flight, grinned. "Well, fog is just so, you know, mysterious... and stuff."

"Right." She gave Katrin a contemplative look. "I guess it does add to the atmosphere."

"Exactly!"

The debate over atmospheric fog continued through landing and into the Customs Hall where the two joined the same slow-moving line. Randomly, Anja cast a sideways glance at Katrin. "Speaking of mysterious fog, are you expecting a mystery like Sherlock Holmes, or more along the Film Noir style wherein you collide with the handsome, er, banker wearing his fedora in an alley while trying to hide from the score of fanatical secret society members who are hunting you down for the abnormally large diamond given to you by your father for safe-keeping?"

"I think you have your films a bit mixed up," came the response on the tail end of a giggle.

"Never." She grinned. "Seriously though, and I expect an answer since we likely will never see each other again so I'll never have the chance to see how things develop, what do you think will happen with this Bill character you're so smitten with? And what do you _want_ to happen?"

"You're asking this now?"

"Meh," Anja shrugged. "I figured if I asked earlier, you might not tell me as you'd have to sit there for hours knowing I know. This way, you'll know I know for the rest of your lifetime, but at least you don't have to look at me and know I know and wonder what I think about it."

Katrin's laugh put her on the receiving end of some strange looks from numerous people, though this went unnoticed by the two women. "Alrighty then." She wrinkled her nose in thought. By the time she was ready to answer, both of them had gotten their stamps in their passports and were waiting by baggage claim. "To answer your second question in a nutshell, I guess I _want_ a whirlwind romance that leads to a deep and passionate relationship, complete with approval from my parents and many grandchildren."

"Nutshell. Wa-ow. I'm hoping you mean eventually with that last bit."

"Oh heavens, absolutely."

"Good. Well, I suppose that suffices well enough. And my first question?"

"Beats me. I'm fairly certain he's more than casually interested in me -"

"_Fairly_ certain? Hell, Katrin, I've only heard your side, but even _I _can see that."

"That's what I keep getting told by my Aunts and my mother. I just can't get rid of that lingering insecurity, you know?"

"Yeah."

"Anyway, fairly certain. But beyond that, I have no idea what he wants. It hasn't really come up, being as anything beyond friendship has yet to be really practical. I believe that long distance relationships can and do work, but I also think that in order to do so there has to be some sort of healthy and strong beginning in person."

"So I take it your short-term plans are to aim for that beginning in the coming two weeks?"

"Well, yeah."

"Aw, you're blushing. That's so cute!"

"Shut up." They pushed their carts down the hall and through the doors toward the meeting area. "Are you being fetched or do you have to fend for yourself?"

"Fetched, actually. We all arrive from our various places today and are being taken directly to the theatre for orientation."

"How will you find your people?"

"They should have a sign or something." Both caught sight of the large sign at the same time. "Ah, there they -" She stopped short as she saw the people gathered around it. "Oh, god. They're wearing matching shirts."

Katrin's eyebrows popped up. "Hate to say it, but they're tacky ones at that."

"I hope I'm not going to have to wear one. And if so, not be seen in public."

"I don't think they've recognized you as one of Them quite yet. I have a car service waiting for me if you want to sneak away and get a ride instead."

"Tempting, but no." Anja sighed heavily. "We weren't told specifically which theatre we're going to, so I'd be rather SOL."

"Well, if you're sure." She gestured at a stocky man who was polished to the nines in a chauffeur outfit and held a sign reading, 'Miss King'. "That's me, so I guess here's where we part ways."

Anja whistled in admiration. "Ritzy ritzy. And you flew coach?" She shook her head, chuckling, as Katrin nodded sheepishly. "Though your driver looks more like a hit-man than anything else. Maybe you're in for a Film Noir after all!" Laughing, the two hugged and, wishing each other luck in their endeavors, went their separate ways.

Katrin pushed her cart over to the driver. "Hi, I'm Katrin King. Do you need to see my passport or anything for proof of identity?"

"Just your boarding pass will suffice, Madam."

"Ok then." Grinning at his formality, which continued the entire way to the brand new black Audi with leather interior and a complimentary basket full of various light snacks and a ribbon reading 'Welcome to Great Britain', Katrin finally allowed herself to relax being safely on the ground for two weeks.


	46. Forty Five: Returning Home

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

_Author's Note: So my sister (who sorta beta-ed for me, once upon a time) and I had a discussion as to the number of nothings (you'll understand what I mean). Initially I used two, though there are three in the film. After some thought as to whether to change it to three, I came to a conclusion. The point here is that there is cheering up in order, and the reminder of the original situation is more important than accuracy. So I bagged the two and the three and went with one instead._

**Chapter Forty-Five: Returning Home**

The late afternoon sun warmed the back of Sarah's neck as she knelt in her garden. She planted tulips in preparation for spring, a task to which she and Hoggle had spent the majority of the day attending. They worked in silence, Sarah too preoccupied to focus on conversation of any sort and Hoggle sensing her mood but unwilling to leave his queen - and, more importantly, his dearest friend - to worry alone. Though she had not confided her troubles, the mechanical vehemence with which she set bulbs in the ground and filled holes with dirt were definite indications something was wrong. Hoggle could only guess at the cause, though he was fairly sure that his guess was near the mark.

Their friendship was a unique one, Hoggle being the closest thing Sarah had to a confidant outside of Jareth. However, both were hyper aware of her position and status in relation to his. This would have posed little problem had it not been for the gossip-mongers in the Fae Court. There were those who would stop at nothing to damage Jareth socially or personally. Spies would have difficulty in finding any information to utilize; yet there was no sense in baiting eel infested waters. Especially with Jareth not being available to anyone, including Sarah, for the past few weeks. Yet, from early on after her residence in the Underground became permanent, their friendship required little words to pass between the two of them. Somehow, they just _knew_ things about each other. Though she initially chalked it up as being the way things worked here, she soon came to suspect with near certainty that Jareth had a hand in things. She never bothered to inquire after the truth of it, merely appreciating the quiet gift for what it was. For his part, Hoggle had always known of his King's interference and fully understood the weight of meaning behind the gesture.

All day, Sarah was only vaguely aware of her actions. Indeed, Hoggle's presence at her side had only barely registered. Still, she _did_ know he was there and the companionship brought some comfort as she brooded over things likely better left alone. Hoggle's voice brought her out of her musings.

"Yer Majesty." He waited for her to look up before he continued. "'Tis about time to call it a day."

Sarah checked the position of the sun and sighed heavily. "What a pity, though you are right of course. I've enjoyed the distraction."

"Distraction? Normally yeh say 'tis a relief to be away from the bustle of the castle for a bit."

"Yes, well..." she sighed. "Things are abnormally quiet at the moment. There isn't even any wind rustling the leaves."

"Aye. The whole Kingdom seems to be waitin'. Holdin' its breath and watchin' and waitin'."

Sarah looked around. "Everywhere except here."

"Except here." Hoggle nodded in agreement. "But then, I suppose he meant for it to be that way."

She smiled at that. The Gardens were Jareth's gift to her, a wedding present years in the making, and one begun long before the event took place. As the passage of time made visits Aboveground more painful for her, and as doing so at all became more and more infrequent, the Gardens became the one tangible link to her Mortal heritage. While the seconds ticked away echoed those experienced by Mortals, here all her senses were enveloped. The seasons passed as they did in her homeland, and even the weather changed as it would have there, regardless of what went on beyond the Garden bounds. There were even small corners dedicated to other parts of the Aboveground world, giving a taste of the exotic and the wild as well as a reminder that she had not left the Underground. However, she never came here to escape the Underground or its magic, now so much a part of her life she could not imagine returning to one without. Were she in need of such an escape, Jareth would simply take her Aboveground for as long as she desired. Rather, the Gardens offered solitude, sanctuary. Here, the one place where both her worlds co-existed peacefully, she did not feel a constant pull from the opposite place.

Today, in truth, she needed an escape. When Jareth left to reconstruct the Labyrinth, the magic of the Kingdom seemed to withdraw with him. Normally not particularly sensitive to it, Sarah was surprised at the emptiness suddenly left behind. At first, she had supposed it to be related to her missing her husband. Not a few hours later, she had changed her assumption completely. And it simply took a brief but carefully worded conversation with her first born to confirm her suspicions. Christopher described as similar to walking into a large cavern, one previously filled with stuff so that it was near impossible to squeeze your way through it to the other end, only to find it had been emptied when you blinked. Now, nearly devoid of light, the empty space carried the echo of an infrequent drip, the source of which could never be found but the sound the only indication that there was _something_ remaining in the 'cavern' other than yourself.

This brought little comfort to Sarah. Especially, as the days waxed and waned, her ability to sense what was, essentially, nothing at all grew. Then, at dinner the night previous, a heavy silence fell over the Kingdom. Sarah herself had inhaled sharply. Andreas and Justin had paled slightly and looked at her, questioning. Lewis abruptly complained he was not feeling well in his stomach. Even Michael had begun to fuss. Raising an eyebrow in Christopher's direction, he had let out a long breath. "The trickle of water has been, well, turned off." And she had nodded, having felt it as well.

In an astute moment that morning, reminding her acutely of Jareth, Christopher took charge of his siblings for the day allowing his mother to flee to her Gardens in hopes of finding solace of some sort. Some way of reconnecting to everything she had grown accustomed to. It had not worked. "I'm worried, Hoggle."

"About what, exactly, Yer Majesty?"

"Arrogance embodied."

"I doubt he'd be appreciatin' that. Probably insist it was confidence."

"Probably. Though he'd be incorrect."

"Heh." Hoggle grinned, knowing her making light of the issue was the one thing keeping her from breaking. "But, fer what it's worth, ye'd know if somethin' had happened. Without him, ye'd be a True Mortal once again. And without you... Well, that would destroy him. Somethin' unexpected happened the day the two of yeh were joined by the Magic of the Labyrinth. And now, ye're connected in a way few of the Fae have ever been."

"I know." She rubbed her temples and shook her head. "Believe me, deep down I do know. But right now, I don't... _feel_ connected. I want him here, Hoggle. I want him home. I don't know what is wrong with me, what's going on. We've been apart before, you know. But this... this is _different_. And all I can think about is how badly I want him back with me, _need_ him back. Right now, I feel so lost. As though I am suddenly trapped in the Labyrinth once again, and it's ten times as dark and even more dangerous. And I'm fighting to survive with no one to save me. No one to push me into challenging myself. No one to send help, however unintended, at the last minute. No one watching to see how I struggle on." She paused. "That sounds so... demented."

"Nah, Sarah-girl," Hoggle disagreed. "Even when he was yer enemy, he was always on yer side. Even when he didn't know it, he was waitin' for yeh. Even when yeh couldn't see him, he was always by yer side."

"Then where is he _now_?" Hearing the despair in her own voice frightened her even more. Knowing there was little he could do beyond be there for her, Hoggle patted her hand as she continued. "Why can't I feel him? Why do I feel so alone?" Her voice cracked, and she covered her mouth, breathing sharply as she tried to keep from crying.

Without warning, a warm breeze swept through the Garden. Sarah's eyes widened as a very welcome calm spread through her, her fears and sense of loss vanishing in its wake. A low voice behind her asked, "Alone?"

Sarah looked over her shoulder, scrambling to her feet, and ran to the old cherry tree, stopping just short of the man who leaned against it. He looked weary, exhausted even, but every inch the polished Goblin King.

Jareth reached out, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear in an age-old gesture. "What have we here?" he asked, gently.

"Oh, nothing."

"Nothing, tra la la?" He wiped a single tear from her cheek with one hand.

She looked at him, feeling her lower lip quiver and not able to stop it. "I know, I'm being silly." She bit her lip. "I... I'm glad you're back." Once more her voice cracked, though this time she could not prevent the tears from flowing in earnest.

"Oh, my love." He took a step forward and gathered her into his embrace, one arm secure around her waist, opposite hand buried in her hair. Hoggle caught his eye and gave an approving nod. Giving a quick bow, he hobbled off. Jareth watched him go, amused eyebrow quirked, even as he held his wife closer to him. "Shh, don't cry." Gradually, her shoulders ceased to shake.

"I'm sorry. I'm happy, you're back, really." She held him tight, face buried in his chest. He smiled, only barely able to understand her words muffled as they were by his shirt. "I was just... it was just... and then everything... and you were _gone_ and I was _here_..."

"Sarah, Sarah," he whispered into her hair. "I promised you once, long ago, that you would never be alone. Did you think I would break that promise now?"

"Well... no." She rested her chin on his chest and peered up at him through slightly blurry vision. "Not really. In all fairness, I _had_ been doing fine, just fine, until today."

He kissed the tip of her nose, adjusting so both his arms wrapped around her waist. "I know. I was keeping an eye on you." He sighed loftily. "That's why things took me as long as they did, I suppose."

Sarah snorted. "What happened, Jareth? Why did the magic suddenly... go away? And why could I feel it?"

"It didn't. Remember, _you_ defeated the Labyrinth all those years ago. And while I eventually made you my wife and my lover, _it_ made you its Queen. It can never trap you again. I was bound to it when I took the throne. But somehow, you were bound with it, by it. You are part of its magic, Sarah."

"Yes, I remember. We had this discussion shortly after the fact. But _what happened in the past day_?"

"Well, most of the time I was gone was spent in preparation. It withdrew, I suppose you could say, for that reason. There was a small link kept open and visible mainly for camouflage purposes against outside eyes. Yesterday evening, the preparations were over and I initiated the final spell, as it were. So it was being redirected in order to establish the new protections over the Kingdom and, as it shifted, hid itself."

"Why?"

"From everyone else, in small part to keep secrets from being revealed I suppose. But those of the Fae, all those of this world really, are intricately connected to the magic of their respective Kingdoms. It is a part of what we are. When that magic is utilized to such an extent as in what I just did, we feel it in the core of our being. And it is not a comfortable feeling."

"Ok, that makes sense. But I am not 'of this world', as you put it. Why hide itself from me?"

He rested his chin on the top of her head. "As the ruler of this Kingdom, the High Fae capable of controlling the magic, and being as I must be able to sense the magic in order to do anything with it, I am able to block the majority of the side effects. Think of how closely bound you are to it, to the magic and to the Labyrinth. Closer than any I have ever seen, myself included, but with no ability to control or manipulate it. Had you been physically aware of what was going on... To say that it would have been painful would have been an understatement."

"Oh." She blinked. "I didn't know all of that."

"Neither did I, until it all happened."

"Oh," she repeated. "Looks like in its attempt to reveal nothing, it revealed quite a bit." She sighed, repositioning her arms so they held him underneath his jacket. "I missed you."

"Mm. Same here. Watching you constantly, while entertaining, is not the same as being with you."

"Entertaining, hmm?" She really didn't have the heart to even pretend to be affronted and grinned at him instead. "Were you really watching me the whole time?"

"For the most part. In truth, I am always aware of you in the back of my mind, though I can get preoccupied with and distracted by other things. But when I am not able to _directly_ keep my eye on you, the Labyrinth watches over you in my stead."

"Well, that is a small comfort, I suppose."

It was Jareth's turn to snort. "By the way, just to set the record straight, I'll have you know it _is_ confidence."

"As you say. But you're still incorrect."

He raised an eyebrow imperiously. "Wench, after the work I just completed for my Kingdom, I grow weary of your incessant prattling."

"Oh really? Poor, poor Goblin King. Perhaps a nap is in order before dinner time."

Eyes suddenly sparkling with mischief, he grinned down at her. "An excellent idea." He leaned down and kissed her deeply, pulling back briefly to murmur, "and you can tuck me in." His second kiss stifled her giggle and, as she wrapped her arms around his neck, they disappeared in a swirl of glitter.


	47. Forty Six: Adventures in London

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

**Chapter Forty-Six: Adventures in London**

Once Katrin got to her hotel and checked into her room, she immediately took a shower and unpacked. Deciding against sleeping all day, for she knew she would only be up all night, she forced herself to stay awake by venturing out of doors. Armed with a map in one pocket and a disposable camera in the other, she hiked up and down the River Thames, first down the Southbank, then up again on the north. She stopped only for lunch, not bothering to go into any of the museums lining the waterfront. It was an enjoyable walk, including rambles through many small gardens and parks that were open to the public. By the time she got back to the hotel, it was shortly after sunset. So, she popped down to the pub for dinner. Truly exhausted, she retired to her room for the rest of the evening.

Flopping down on the bed, she pulled out her laptop and turned it on. As she waited for it to boot up and load the program she wanted, she leaned over and pulled the phone off the bedside table, nestling it in her lap.

All day, Bill could hardly sit still. In his opinion, his desk job was duller than dirt, especially after having spent all those years as a Curse Breaker in the most exotic of places. Still, he reminded himself that the best work he could do for the Order was here in London. It normally made the tedium a bit more bearable.

The way he was feeling today, however, was not conducive to bearing tedium. He was vaguely reminded of the time in his Fifth year at Hogwarts when he went to Hogsmeade with a girl for the first time. And he felt absolutely ridiculous because of it. But his unexplainable case of nerves did not go away no matter what he tried, so he ignored it as best he could.

Finally home for the evening, Bill looked around his rather empty flat. Even though it was a small place, it gave off quite the echo when he dropped his satchel to the floor. He assumed this was due to the fact he had very little furniture to his name. What he did have consisted of a rather small end table upon which his phone sat, another small table doubling as dining area and desk, an upturned crate to sit upon, and an aged and lumpy mattress in the other room. Even these few pieces were not even properly owned by Bill, rather borrowed from Sirius until he got furniture of his own. Before he could think on it further, his phone began to ring.

He reached for the handset, wondering who could possibly be calling. "Um, hello?"

_"Hey, is this Bill?"_

The voice sounded pleasantly familiar. "Yes... Katrin?"

_"That's me! I pulled up that email you sent me with your phone number so I thought I'd give you a call. Let you know I actually arrived and how you can contact me here."_

"It's good to actually hear from you. Er, I mean hear you. I mean, oh forget it." Bill wondered just how corny he was sounding. This telephone business was more than a little odd. _Pity we couldn't just talk over the flu network,_ he thought. "So, er, how was your flight?"

_"Which one?" _Her giggle sounded oddly muffled through the connection. _"They were all fine, as flights go I guess. I met this real character of a girl on my last one though, so that helped it to go by faster."_

"I'm just amazed that those things manage to get up in the air, let alone go as fast as they already do!"

_"No kidding. So what's the plan for tomorrow?"_

"Well, I know this neat little place we could meet up at for breakfast..."

The two met at a restaurant a short walk from Katrin's hotel and just across Blackfriar's Bridge. As they sat drinking a final cup of tea, Katrin leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, "At the risk of sounding like an uncultured and closed-minded tourist, I have to say I'm not all that impressed with this Traditional English Breakfast business."

Bill grinned good-naturedly. "No? Why not?"

"I think it was the porridge that threw it all out of my favor." Katrin shrugged. "It was, well, on the bland side of tasteless."

He couldn't help chuckling in response. "Admittedly, I've never been a big fan of it either. When I was younger, I used to pile on heaps of jam. And even then, I'd get in trouble for taking too long to eat it."

"And yet you subject yourself to it now because?"

"I thought it'd be a good way to begin our Day of English Cultural Experiences."

"Oh ho!" She blinked her eyes and pursed her lips before saying, in an accent of the upper class, "That is quite the title, I daresay."

"Exactly. So far be it from me to ruin the experience due to my own abhorrence for the stuff. You see, it just wouldn't be Cricket."

Katrin's giggles drew glances from a pair of elderly women seated across the room, though such things went unnoticed. "I am honored that you would endure such atrocities for my sake. That being said, captain, what's next on the schedule? Hopefully something a bit less painful for you."

"I certainly hope so. I figured that since we're over in the area already, and you mentioned wanting to see all the major sites, how about we start with Saint Paul's?" As soon as Katrin had given him her travel dates, Bill had spent most of his free time (which wasn't much thanks to the Order) scavenging for information on the Muggle parts of the city and what, exactly, Muggles were interested in seeing. Thankfully, the London Tourist Board was rather helpful, along with some special issues of a Muggle magazine called _Time Out_.

"Sounds good to me," she agreed.

As they walked the short distance to Wren's famous Cathedral - for it was a sunny, if a bit brisk, fall day - Bill confessed that he did not actually have a schedule of things to do, per se. It was more of an extensive list of things to suggest. When she asked to see it, he obligingly pulled it out of his pocket. But when she saw the small, and obviously well used, notebook, she laughed and told him she would trust him to make appropriate suggestions based on what they happened to be doing. Especially as he had taken the time to write down not only places, but opening times, costs, and special events on various days.

They wandered around for a couple of hours, taking a brief guided tour first and then exploring on their own. They ventured the entire way up into the dome and then worked their way back down to the Whispering Gallery. There they spent more than a few minutes sitting on benches on opposite sides of the Gallery and telling each other random 'secrets'. From there, they went below the main aisles of the Cathedral and into the Crypt, exchanging historical facts about the various memorials found therein.

As they contemplated Wellington, and his relation to boots, Katrin's stomach growled softly. "Hm," she said, looking down, "I don't suppose it's time for lunch, yet?"

Bill sighed with relief. "I didn't want to be the first one to say it, but I've been considering it since Nelson."

She laughed. "Yeah, same here. And as fascinating as these war heroes may be, I can only handle so much of them when I'm _not_ hungry. But hey, unless you've got something brilliant in that list of yours, how about we just go to that pub that we passed on the way up? That eerie looking one with the Gothic style sign?"

"Oh, wasn't it something like Bell, Book and Candle?"

"Yeah, that's it!"

"I'm game. It looked dark and foreboding. Just the place to go after spending time in a crypt."

The small pub, a few minutes walk from the Cathedral, was less traditional and more of a themed restaurant chain called the Eerie Pub Chain. Decorated with every cliché image from the best of classic horror, from Poe's raven to Frankenstein's lab, Katrin found it highly amusing. She nearly collapsed in a fit of hysterical laughter when a recording of someone chuckling evilly and a woman screaming in terror played as she entered the toilets (the door to which was found disguised in a wall carved after a bookcase).

For his part, Bill found it equally amusing and fascinating. There were clear references to magic and witches, but while there was a portion of truth in many, there was always an element of absurdity. This became especially evident as Katrin explained where some of the more obvious, in her mind at least, images and their origins. He became ever more intrigued as to where Muggles came up with these ideas in the first place.

This, of course, meant a very delicately maneuvered conversation. He did not want to keep his curiosity and ignorance hidden, but he could not exactly explain _why_ he had never heard of the Wolfman, or even _Thriller_. The more they discussed the decor over their burgers, the more frustrated Bill became as he realized that there was little else he would have enjoyed more at that moment than to tell Katrin of - indeed to _show_ her the reality behind these folk tales.

As they talked, Katrin began to wonder at Bill's reactions. While he enjoyed the humor of _The Monster Mash_ and the smoke seeping out from behind the glowing doorway, there was a glint in his eye that told her he was taking the things they discussed just a hair too seriously. She wondered at first if he was terribly superstitious or perhaps had led a remarkably sheltered life to be so unlearned in pop culture. She did not particularly want to write it off as simply because he was English either, for many of these images were not exclusively American. Slowly she became aware of a hope that his seriousness was mere misunderstanding on her part, for it would not bode well should he be uncomfortable with ideas of things slightly supernatural being all too natural for her.

They remained at the pub for many hours, eventually getting a set of appetizers as an early dinner as neither was particularly hungry for another full meal. Then, at a half past six, Bill stood abruptly and said, "Oh, bloody hell. We have to get going in order to get good spots."

"Good spots?" Katrin stood as well and pulled on her jacket. "Where are we going?"

"Er, it's sort of a surprise, though you'll probably figure it out before long." He was sheepishly grinning, and it served only to pique Katrin's curiosity all the more.

"Will I have to wait long? I don't do well with drawn out surprises," she admitted.

"No. But I refuse to say more for the risk of spoiling things too soon." They left the pub and walked toward St. Paul's once more. This time, Bill led her around the Southern side and across the street. From there, they headed toward the Millennium Bridge, a metal footbridge spanning the Thames. At the other end, she could see a tall brown chimney.

"Hey, isn't that the Tate Modern?" she asked.

"I believe so," he answered as they stepped onto the bridge and began their crossing.

"It's kind of... well... ugly. But I can't really look away." She crinkled her forehead in contemplation. They neared the middle, it's highest point, and she began gesturing. "I mean, it's so... brown and... factorial. And look at the rest of the buildings. It just doesn't -" she both stopped speaking and walking simultaneously as she lit upon another building nearby. She was silent for a moment and her eyes went wide. "Oh." A grin spread across her face. "That's..."

"The Globe."

"Yeah," she sighed. The small building, with it's thatched roof and whitewashed sides, looked completely out of place from its modern counterparts. Modernity sprang up on all sides, both in the buildings and with the sounds of the city. Time had moved on. Yet there it stood, plucked from ages past and dropped in the middle of an era that could only imagine what it would have been like to see such a sight from across the river for the first time. _That,_ she thought, _is magic._

"Didn't you know it was there?" Bill interrupted her musings with some regret.

"Yeah. I just thought it was farther away from looking at the map."

"Ah." He nodded. "You know, we should probably keep going if we want to make it there on time."

"On time?" she asked, only half-aware of the conversation.

"Sure. Unless you'd rather not see the play." He nonchalantly waved a ticket in front of her nose. "I just thought it might interest you seeing as you do the whole English Renaissance thing during the summer."

Katrin's eyes crossed as she looked at the piece of paper held between two of Bill's fingers. She grasped his hand with both of hers to stop it from moving and the words '_A Winter's Tale_' registered in her brain. Sharply looking at him, she caught the half-smug, half-excited grin on his face. So, she did the only reasonable thing a girl in her position would do.

Katrin jumped snatched the ticket from him, hopped up and down in a circle saying, "EEEEEEEE!", and then, losing all reason and ability to hold back, she threw her arms around his neck for a giant hug and a kiss on his unsuspecting cheek. She then grabbed his hand and charged the rest of the way across the bridge.

Bill continued to grin through it all, though the emotion behind it changed slightly.


	48. Forty Seven: An End to the Fun Times?

_ Updated for spelling and continuity: April 4, 2011._

**Chapter Forty-Seven: An End to the Fun Times?**

"She's off gallivanting in London."

"She is _where_?" It was late in the evening. Jareth had been in the Study, getting rid of the last pile of business that had arisen in his absence. After making sure the younger children were all sound in bed, Sarah had joined him with Christopher in tow. The two had been engaged in a rousing game of Sudden Death Monopoly, played in silence so as not to disturb the Goblin King as he worked, when Jareth had abruptly looked up. Scanning the room and noting her absence, he had asked after Katrin, adding she should have been here by now, surely.

"London," Sarah repeated. It was all she could do to keep from laughing outright at her husband's dumbfounded expression. "You know, the rather large city in Southeast England."

Jareth gave his wife an exasperated glare. "I know where London is, Sarah. Whatever is she doing there? Now is the time of year when she comes home in preparation for winter."

"You make her sound like a bear preparing to hibernate. Honestly, what do you think she is doing there?" He responded with a blank look and she struggled anew to hide her amusement. "Maybe you need assistance with refreshing your memory. Where does the handsome young banker, the one who happens to be named after a marvelously romantic literary hero, currently dwell?"

There was a brief silence and Jareth's eyes slowly narrowed. "So she is visiting this Bill person, is she?"

"Yes. And before you ask," she hurried as he opened his mouth again, "she is staying at a small hotel in walking distance of The Globe Theatre. Doesn't that sound like fun?"

"Oh, _oodles_."

"Precisely what I think! So you really cannot fault her for wanting to go off on this little jaunt of hers before returning home to her crotchety father, nosey mother, and obnoxious siblings, can you." It was a statement that brooked no argument and Sarah returned to the game in time to collect rent for the hotel and two houses on Marvins Gardens.

There was another brief silence as Jareth studied the look of imminent defeat on the face of his heir. "Is the enjoyment of her visit entirely dependent upon the amount of time she gets to spend with him," he ventured slowly, "or will she be able to have a good time playing tourist on her own if the situation arises?"

This time, the silence was a bit longer as Sarah's own eyes narrowed. She threw Christopher a look, then sighed. "You had best go find someone to bring us coffee," she told him.

Christopher threw a glance at his father, receiving confirmation of the mood shift. He rolled his eyes and made his way out. "I always have to miss out on the interesting stuff," he grumbled, shuffling his feet as he neared the door. Before closing it behind him, he added, "Just don't go thinking I'm not coming back."

Once the door shut, Sarah leaned back in her armchair and focused intently on Jareth. "Why would she have to play tourist alone? And don't you dare consider beating around the bush on this one."

"I would never." He gave her a half grin that faded quickly as he rifled through the stack he had mentally labelled 'Ignore Until Last Possible Moment'. He pulled out a scroll, open but still curling at the ends. In the candlelight, she could see gold and silver glinting as he waved it around a bit. "There is merely _this_ little missive to consider."

"What is it?"

"See for yourself." He held it out to her and she rose from the armchair to walk around the desk. Seating herself upon one corner, she took the scroll from him and scanned it quickly. As her eyebrows rose higher and higher, Jareth leaned back in his chair to regard her, fingertips pressed together in front of his face. Sarah looked up at him, before reading it more thoroughly. Twice.

"Oh, my. Well. When did this arrive?"

"It appeared in my Study shortly before you and Christopher did this evening."

"I see." She read it once more. "What will you do?"

"Do? That isn't exactly a suggestion we hold a tea party, Sarah."

"Tuh. I know that. But how will you deal with it?"

"What would you like me to do? Ignore a written, and highly official, edict of the High King and Queen?" He shook his head. "I will do as asked. Bring him here for an audience in order that Their Majesties can receive a full understanding of what the situation is in the Mortal World. I will have to do so right away in order to meet with him myself beforehand."

"Right away? You will do no such thing, Jareth. She's only been there for a few days. Give her time to play a bit before you spoil all her fun and steal Bill away from her again."

"Play? Fun?" He was sputtering and knew it. "I don't think - hang on. What do you mean, again?"

"Well, right after they met, at the beginning of his own vacation, he was dragged off to go haring through the outskirts of the Kingdom."

"That was no fault of mine. I did not _ask_ the Goblins to bring him here. I did not _demand_ his presence."

"No, but because of it, you _did_ ask her to come home so she would have returned in any case. And if he had not been required to be elsewhere, for it was not then known he was the same person, then she would have not been there even though he would have and they would not have been together."

He looked at her, askance. "You cannot be serious."

She sighed again. "Can't you, I don't know, postpone things? Drag the planning out a bit? After all, while you are subject to Their Royal Command, _he_ is Mortal and therefore is not. And it does not give you a time frame, really. It looks to be simply an announcement of something to be expected."

"Yes, but standing protocol _does _give a time frame. We have about a fortnight, give or take a few days. Besides, it is well within Their rights to arrive in ten minutes to demand everyone's presence an hour ago."

"That is so unreasonable."

He sighed. "I know. And that probably will not happen. But it _may _and that is the point. Theoretically, I can delay things a day, maybe two. "

She read the scroll once more. "A private audience with the High King and Queen, followed by a gala of the High Court. Both with the 'requested' attendance of a Mortal who is, thus far, thought to be unconnected to anything involving the Underground outside of employment at this bank of yours. Are you going to have Katrin there as well? After all, aren't all High Fae who have come of age required to attend galas of this sort?"

"The attendance requirement is implied, not demanded. If she does not wish to attend, while it could be considered bad manners, she does not have to do so."

"So you do not intend to inform her of it."

"I don't know, Sarah. This is not the way I had hoped them to discover the truth about each other."

"Perhaps they will manage it on their own before the fact."

"Read between the lines, my love. They would have to do so in _one week's time_."

"You could tell her yourself."

"It is not my place to do so."

"But for them to find out in front of the _entire _High Court? Jareth..."

"I know. It is a recipe for disaster."

Christopher arrived in time to hear his father's last statement. "What is?" In response, Sarah held out the scroll to their son. As he read it, his own eyebrows shot straight up and he whistled in astonishment. "Well, I'm guessing the recipe has to do with the ingredients of a certain Wizard and my volatile sister. What are you going to do, Pop?"

Jareth sighed deeply, covering his face with one hand and closing his eyes. "Why do the two of you appear determined to suggest I defy the two people who could destroy my kingdom and everything in it on a whim?"

A knock on the door forestalled any answer the others could have made. When Jareth did not respond, Sarah stood and crossed to the door, instructing Christopher to seat himself as she did so. On the other side stood a Goblin servant, bearing a tray laden with all the vittles necessary for a late night meeting. Thanking the Goblin, she took the tray and dismissed him gently, closing the door once more behind her. Sarah carried the tray to the small table and set it atop the Monopoly board.

As she poured coffee for the three of them, doctoring one cup to Jareth's tastes, she said quietly, "Neither Chris nor I are implying that you would consider doing anything but what is commanded by those who govern above you, Jareth. We simply wish to know what steps you will take to ensure all is done properly." Carrying her own cup in one hand, she took Jareth's to him and set it on an empty spot on his desk. Seating herself on the edge of the desk once more, she continued, "I know how it irks you to have no control over a situation involving your kingdom. Especially when those situations directly affect those you care about."

"'Irks' does not even begin to encompass it," he said, opening his eyes to peer at his wife. She smiled at him, gently and lovingly. He held her gaze for a long moment before responding further. "To answer to your question in short, then, I will send a message to the Gringotts Goblins. I will give them one day to inform him and prepare. And the morning following you, Chris, will bring him here."

Christopher slumped in the armchair. "Back to the role of Owl Companion, then, eh?"

Jareth shook his head. "No. You will go as yourself, as the Heir to the Kingdom, as my son."

He raised an eyebrow. "Does this mean formal and official?" At his father's nod, he slumped even more. This was not much of an improvement in his eyes. "Man..."

Sarah's giggle managed to relieve some of Jareth's tension. He leaned forward to grasp one of her hands. "It won't be full regalia, if that is what you are worried about. Just formal." At Christopher's snort, Jareth cracked a grin. Running his thumbs over Sarah's knuckles, he looked at her. "I will meet with him, with Chris in attendance for some, if not all, of it. It should not take more than a day, a day and a half at most, and then I will have him returned Aboveground until the time of the Audience." With a final squeeze of her fingers, he released her hand and reached for his cup. "All that remains is for us to discuss the full details of how this will pan out, or at least a plan of attack. I am sure between the three of us we can come up with some way of ensuring this is as minimally destructive and painful to everyone involved as possible."

Sarah nodded, slowly. "Very well." She glanced over to Christopher, who looked as though a rain cloud of doom had descended upon him. He lifted his gaze to meet hers, giving an elegant shrug that echoed a gesture of his father's. It gave her cause to smile once more even as her concern refused to fade. Then, she returned to the aspect of these doings that most disturbed her peace of mind. "And what of Katrin?"

Jareth leaned back into his chair once more. "What indeed."

_pdated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._


	49. Forty Eight: Interrupted, Yet Again

_Updated for grammar & spelling and checked for continuity: March 10, 2011._

**Chapter Forty-Eight: Interrupted, Yet Again**

Bill and Katrin struggled up the stairs, a cumbersome box containing what would eventually be a bookshelf balanced between them. Atop it lay a few smaller boxes of more unassembled minor furniture pieces. For a few extra pounds, their cabbie had agreed to carry the two bags full of odds and ends. The rest of the furniture would be delivered in the next couple of days.

Although it was not part of any plan whatsoever, Katrin had determined it absolutely necessary that by the end of her visit they furnish Bill's flat with, if nothing else, a chair to accompany his crate. While she was no stranger to sitting on the floor, and rather enjoyed doing so, she knew this was not the norm for civilized society. Especially as he seemed so embarrassed to invite anyone over mainly due to his lack of furniture. Upon discovering, after much prodding, the depth of the furniture situation over dinner the previous evening, she looked him straight in the eye and said, "What you need is a trip to IKEA." This met with a blank look on his part so, naturally, she delved into a full explanation as to the merits of that particular store. Their server, overhearing her exuberant comments on the amusing names of the furniture groupings, mentioned there being an IKEA located in Wimbledon.

Game for just about anything, Bill agreed to Katrin's suggestion they make a day of it, stopping at the infamous arena as part of their tourist expeditions, for all that he knew full well she spoke in jest. His reasoning was that shopping for interior decorations of any sort would likely be more productive with a female present, assuming stereotypes held fast. And, if nothing else, it would be more enjoyable with someone whose company he enjoyed.

After ensuring Bill understood that by garnering her assistance he was not guaranteed anything close to designer level color and pattern schemes, indeed that it might be sheer luck that anything she suggested would even remotely match, she agreed to his agreement. So, the next morning, by bus and train to IKEA they went. At the end of the afternoon he had decided on a few major pieces that would make his flat more comfortable to live in. He had also formulated a plan to raid the attic back at The Burrow of some of things he knew had been stuffed away. They might be in need of repair or touching up, but it would beat crates for chairs. More than satisfied, they made their purchases (Katrin adding a clay planter and the promise of a blender as house warming gifts), arranged for delivery of most of the purchases, then split the fare for the cab trip back to Central London.

While Bill's flat was on the third story above a bakery, they managed to get everything to his door without any catastrophes. Opening said door proved to be the real challenge, but this, too, was quickly accomplished and they went down the hallway to the front room. They gingerly set down the bookshelf and Katrin began unstacking the boxes while Bill fetched the two bags from just outside the door where the cabbie had left them. When he returned, he found Katrin standing in the middle of the room, boxes strewn haphazardly around her feet. She looked over her shoulder, grin threatening to spread at any moment, and said, "You weren't kidding about the crate."

Bill didn't bother to stifle his own grin. "I've half a mind to be insulted that you didn't take me seriously."

"Bah," she dismissively waved a hand. "To do so would be counter-productive, for I'd be obliged to depart in a huff and then who would help you assemble your new bookshelf?"

"And now you imply that I wouldn't be able to do it myself?"

Turning around, Katrin wagged her finger in admonition. "Your grin belies your incredulity."

He reached down to help her move the box. "Damn. Another great plan falls flat."

Between the two of them, they swiftly rid the bookshelf of its casing, parts strewn even more haphazardly around the room than the rest of the boxes. Katrin perched on the crate, scanning the simple instructions on the off chance that there was some tricky step right in the middle. Bill could see the picture of the final product on the back of the sheet and, looking at all the pieces, itched to pull out his wand and assemble everything with a couple of flicks.

"Right." Katrin folded the sheet and put it on the little table before her. "Looks like all we need is a Phillips head."

He blinked. "Whose head?"

"You know, those screwdrivers with the little cross instead of just the one flat line? What do they call them over here?"

"Oh, I never really paid much attention. I think I may have one of those in the kitchen." The day after he announced his intent to move to Muggle London, Arthur Weasley came back to the house with a Muggle tool kit thinking it might come in handy as camouflage. Bill made a mental note to thank his father. He maneuvered around the piles "Since I'll be in there, shall I put the kettle on?"

"Sure, and grab a hammer if you've got one just in case." When he disappeared, Katrin shook her head. "'Put the kettle on.' How droll!" Realizing she was far too amused at herself, she set to re-organizing the parts to the bookshelf according to steps for assembly, and counting out screws. A couple of minutes later, she heard a knock at the door, voices in the hallway coming closer, and then the kettle whistling. She looked up when she heard someone enter the room.

At first glance, the man in the doorway appeared to be in his late thirties. However, the grey mingled with his light brown hair, as well as the hardship and suffering she could see behind his intelligent eyes, gave him an aged quality. The fact that he stood there looking tired and somewhat ill in his patched, and slightly outdated, clothing sparked her curiosity even more. Still, there was a gentleness about him and the smile lines on his face and a twinkle in his eyes put her immediately at ease. Remembering her manners, and realizing she should not stare so, Katrin scrambled to her feet. "Uh, hi. I'm Katrin."

He chuckled as he took her extended hand for a firm shake. "Yes, I guessed as much. I'm Remus Lupin. I don't suppose Bill ever mentioned me."

"Well, no. Not that I recall."

"That's friendship and loyalty for you. Not that there's as much for him to say about me as there is to tell about you." Her response of an arched eyebrow and open curiosity in the eyes that met him gaze for gaze impressed him and he smiled widely. "You don't phase well, I see."

She shook her head. "I have five brothers. Though the elder one probably equates to about five all by himself. I learned early on to hold my own or suffer the consequences."

_Oh, is Padfoot going to love hearing about this one,_ Remus thought. Before he could respond, Bill came in behind him and nearly spilled the hot tea everywhere as well as dropping the hammer and screwdriver that were tucked under his arm. "Standing in the doorway is probably not the best of plans, mate," he quipped, handing over two of the mugs. He gestured to the crate and the floor. "I'm guessing you introduced yourselves, so welcome to my humble abode Remus. Please, have a seat."

Taking the initiative, Katrin plopped down on the floor by the table and blew at the steam rising from her mug. Remus marked this as in her favor and went for the crate, pulling a folded piece of parchment out of an inner pocket of his coat. "Fascinated as I am by this endeavor with boards you two seem to be engaged in, I actually just dropped by to deliver this. Apparently, being as you were out of the office today and, er, not really living in a convenient area for direct delivery, the bank sent this to your parents' house this morning. And Arthur dropped it off with me on his way home from work. He said he'd tried contacting you this morning, but you weren't in so I said I'd bring it by."

Frowning, Bill set his own mug down on the table and took the note. "Oh, bloody - now what?" His frown deepened as he scanned it. "Excuse me a moment. I have to, er, call in." One of the requirements he had when looking for a flat to let was that that it needed to have a fireplace. For reasons unbeknownst to both his estate agent and his landlord, this one happened to have two. Both were, naturally, connected to the flu network as soon as he signed the agreement.

Katrin stared at the door as it closed behind Bill, her own brow furrowed. Finally, she peered up at Remus. "Ok, you may not have the answer to this but I just have to ask. It's bank policy to send _notes_ to next of kin when one is not at work? Haven't they ever heard of picking up the phone and leaving a message?"

"I believe the basic philosophy is: why change a lasting institution?" Highly amused at her disgruntled expression, he chuckled. "Their policies and procedures have lasted this long in all other respects, it makes little sense for them to adjust to any modern conveniences. Apparently they resist change like none other when it comes to bank issues. I've always supposed that's the way it is with most bankers. And from what I've heard from those caught in the thick of things, when it comes to change or adversity, this particular set are thought to be a vicious bunch of goblins." The inside joke between he and himself set him off once more.

Katrin, who had just raised her cup to her lips, nearly choked at his word choice. She chuckled as well, hoping she did not sound too forced. Remus, still chuckling over his comment, did not appear to notice. "I've met some of those myself," she said, weakly.

Finally recovered, Remus changed the subject before he could get himself in any trouble. "So," he began conversationally, "Bill told me you're a musician. Are you successful?"

"That probably depends on your measure of success. Unless you're just asking if I'm any good at it?" She shrugged good-naturedly. "When I'm performing, I make decent enough tips and actually have a handful of fans who come specifically for me. But since I can only really do what I do for five, maybe six, months each year, it's sort of hard to measure. It all goes on a season-to-season basis. But I also work at a cafe now and again, so I get by." _Or would if the situation were less in my favor,_ she thought. "What about yourself?"

He smiled grimly. "I am currently unemployed."

"Oh." She blushed. "I, uh, well, pardon my tactlessness."

"There's nothing to worry about. I do the odd job as well and, also manage to get by. And," he leaned in and switched to a whisper, "it leaves time open to pursue hobbies and escapades that a full time job would never allow for. If you know what I mean." He winked pointedly.

Katrin giggled. "I'm not entirely certain that I do know what you mean, but I'll trust my overactive imagination to just make it up."

"That sounds more than fair." Raising his mug to her, he then downed the rest of his tea. "It was lovely to meet you at last, Katrin, but I have to get going. Leave you two young things to your own devices." He eyed the tools that Bill had left on the table next to his mug. "Whatever they might be." Remus chuckled at her shocked, yet amused, expression and stood. "I'll just go wave goodbye to Bill then let myself out."

He apparently met Bill in the hallway, for she heard a brief, but muffled conversation. Bill came in and took Remus' spot on the crate. "Right then. Looks like we'll have to call it a night and cancel plans for tomorrow. I've got to head into headquarters for a meeting tonight and then go out of town early in the morning."

"Your work is interfering with your vacation _again_?" Katrin couldn't help but be disappointed. "Man, that's lame. And we haven't even finished assembling your furniture."

"Yes, well I've survived thus far, I think I can go a couple more days. I'm really sorry about this. I don't really like my time being so controlled by my job but these are delicate times. I'll be back either tomorrow evening or Thursday morning. We can figure out plans then."

"Well, I can't exactly say I'm pleased, but it isn't as though I can do anything about it, right? And it's not your fault. Does this have to do with whatever got you called back from the States?"

"They weren't specific, but it wouldn't surprise me."

"Gah. Oh well. I'll just have to amuse myself for a day. Besides, it'll give me time to find that blender."

Bill laughed. "Sorry we can't do dinner tonight like planned. Do you want me to call you a cab or something?"

"Nah, it's still early yet. I'll just take the bus. I checked the schedule last night; there's a direct one from here to Blackfriars Bridge and I can walk from there."

"Well then, let me walk you to the stop." Rising, he offered her a hand up and, tiptoeing around the shelves and boxes once more, they headed out into streets of London.


	50. Forty Nine: Meetings

_Updated for spelling and continuity: April 4, 2011._

**C****hapter Forty-Nine: Meetings**

Looking through the glass panels on the doors, Bill watched as a handful of shopkeepers began their morning rituals for setting up for the day. Most of their robes were held tight against them in a feeble attempt at keeping themselves shielded form the light rain that had just begun to fall. Behind him, at the long counter, stood a row of Goblins preparing for their own day of business. Papers rustled and a low murmur of conversation disturbed what would otherwise surely have been a cavernous silence. He stretched lightly, a couple of vertebrae in his lower back popping, and sighed. He stood in the lobby of Gringotts, awaiting his summons to meet the infamous King of the Goblins. And, truth be told, he was more than a little intimidated by such a thought, however undeniably intrigued. _What manner of person would he be? How did the Fae, and a royal one at that, truly feel about a Mortal human doing magic? Did the stories and legends hold any truth?_

So many questions always left unanswered, and more questions rising at every turn. When he was told the previous night that he would be returning to the Labyrinth, and this time to meet with its King, he was not particularly surprised. Too much was at stake in his own world to allow anything connected with You-Know-Who to go uninvestigated. Should matters cross into a world where there was even more magic to tap into, there might be no stopping him. But Bill was not truly sure what else there was for him to offer. He had been over-complete in the report about his travels through the Labyrinth, as well as what he had discovered about the tome Quirrel had used to retrieve the Philosopher's Stone. What more could be asked of him?

Sharp footsteps on the polished marble broke Bill out of his contemplations. He turned and immediately smiled, extending one hand as he approached the familiar Goblin.

"Good morning, Mr. Weasley." Frank smiled in return as he shook Bill's hand.

"Hullo, sir. It's good to see you again."

Frank's harsh laughter caused a few nearby tellers to raise their heads, disapproval evident in their beady eyes. "There are few humans - nay, few creatures at all who would would say so and mean it, Mr. Weasley."

"Well, if nothing else, I enjoy speaking with you. Our conversations have always been insightful. And never boring."

"How diplomatic of you." Frank laughed again and began walking to an unassuming door off to one side of the counters, gesturing Bill to follow. "Unfortunately, we have not had the pleasure of conversation for some time."

"No, not since I changed positions."

"Ah, yes. You traded in your exciting trade of Curse Breaking for one of parchment-pushing and administration. And how do you like working under Ragnarok?"

"He is," Bill paused briefly to select his words, "a very fair supervisor. If a bit stubborn."

Frank nodded. "Yes. But do not let that discourage you. There are many among us who are on your side of the issues you deal with. We are not all completely blinded by past grievances, or by current politics. With patience and perseverance - two traits I know you posses - I believe more may even open their eyes."

Though somewhat surprised at that response, for he had not expected things to be addressed so openly in a random hallway, Bill was nonetheless flattered. "Thank you for the vote of confidence."

Frank nodded again. "However, a word of advice for you, Mr. Weasley. Whatever our opinions and feelings may be, ultimately the decision will lie in the hands of our ruler. Our best interests aside, there is much more at stake with our involvement in a war between Humans than the majority in the Mortal World will ever know."

"I understand."

"Excellent." Frank stopped in front of the door to the boardroom. "Now, we are here and here we part. I hope to see you when you return. Best of luck to you, Mr. Weasley." With a final nod, he continued on his way down the hallway. "Thank you."

Bill watched him go for a few seconds before taking a deep breath and opening the door. At the other end of the Board Room stood a young man, who appeared to be about Bill's age, though from what he understood about the Fae looks could be rather deceptive. His white-blonde hair, though not nearly as long as Bill's own, looked to have been cut and styled to hang floppily without appearing messy. He wore a Muggle suit about two centuries too old, if Bill remembered the pictures from his days of Muggle Studies correctly, yet fit the look and image precisely. For some reason, Bill suspected that this was not the King of the Goblins, but there was no indication of who, exactly, he was.

The man grinned widely, coming halfway around the table. "Hey there, Bill. Good to see you again."

"Er, hello." Moving forward, Bill shook the proffered hand. _Again?_ he thought. "Forgive me if I seem impolite, but... have we met?"

"Eh, sort of." He coughed, seemingly embarrassed. "Right, formal introduction time. I am Christopher, eldest son of and heir to the King of the Goblins."

Bill blinked. Then raised an eyebrow. "Christopher. As in my 'owl companion'?"

"That'd be me."

"A prince in disguise. I knew there was something fishy about you."

"Actually, it was more fowl than fishy." Christopher laughed heartily. "Some days, I just kill me."

Bill raised an eyebrow and half-grinned. "Uh huh."

"I know, bad pun. I just couldn't help it. Comes from spending too much time with my sister. She's weird like that and it rubs off." He shrugged. "How've you been?"

Bill shrugged as well. "If work and the problems of the world would stop interfering, I would be much better. Other than that, I am doing splendid. You?"

"Things have been chaotic Underground as well, to say the least. And I suspect my sister is going to have justified cause to inflict bodily harm upon me in the next few weeks."

"Oh really?" Bill grinned, thinking of Ginny and Ron.

"Yes, and it isn't even my fault." He paused. "Not entirely, anyway." Another pause. "Not that it would make much difference as far as she's concerned."

"Of course not. My younger sister, the youngest of all seven of us, has been building up to that mindset for years now. The next few years should be really interesting."

"Good luck to you all," Christopher replied somberly, before sighing dramatically. "Ah, well. I suppose we should get this show on the road."

"I don't suppose there is any possibility of you giving me a head's up on what is expected of me?"

Christopher sighed. "I'm not even entirely certain what's expected of you. I'm guessing just to answer questions."

"Right then. Let's get going."

Christopher pulled out a small, crystal ball out from a pocket on the inside of his jacket and haphazardly tossed it at the door. The solid oak door disappeared and, through the doorway, Bill saw a stone path leading up to a smaller, rickety doorway on the side of a large castle. _Here we go again,_ he thought walking alongside Christopher as they went back Underground.

Upon entering the castle, Christopher led Bill through the corridors up to his father's study. It took quite a few minutes to get there, for all that they were taking the shortcuts. _I've been spoiled by the ability to go from here to there without much effort,_ he thought. Neither made much effort to make small talk. And as much as Christopher wanted to get into the topic of Katrin, he knew that she would do more than inflict bodily harm upon him should he be the one to spill the beans. _And she says I am unable to practice restraint. Heh._

They arrived at Jareth's study and the doors swung open of their own volition. Christopher noticed that Bill was completely unphased by this display and the corner of his mouth twitched, amused. "I'm supposed to leave you here," he murmured.

Bill nodded. "It was good to see you again. Er, meet you in person."

"Likewise," Christopher said, shaking Bill's proffered hand. "I'm sure I'll see you again. Good luck in there."

This last comment was muttered, and barely audible, but a response came from inside the study anyway. "I heard that," was Jareth's comment. "Do come in, Mr. Weasley." Bill entered the room and the doors swung shut behind him. Christopher snorted and went off to find his mother where they would wait together for the end of the meeting and a summary from Jareth.

Jareth was standing behind his desk, bent over a number of scrolls and stacks of paper. He could not help but smile at Christopher's parting comment, nor could he resist a comment of his own to his cheeky son. He looked up when the doors shut and took in the image of the young man standing patiently and serenely before him.

His long red hair was tied back in a ponytail, and a small earring had apparently replaced the much swooned over tooth earring he had worn previously. The long, black robes he wore were neat and tidy, and he had a care-worn leather satchel slung over one shoulder. Out of the corner peeked the end of a stick, Jareth assumed this was Bill's wand. At first glance, Jareth could see why his daughter would be attracted to him.

Yet for all of Bill's sharp looks, that was not what impressed the Goblin King. There was no sense that he was uncomfortable being in a room with the King of the Goblins, no unease at being summoned to the Underground without explanation of the reasons why. He was utterly professional and at ease with the situation, however unfamiliar it might be. His eyes belied a wary concern, yet they danced with the curiosity and excitement found in a person who was ready to take on whatever challenges might be tossed in his direction.

Jareth grudgingly had to admit the first impression was a good one. _I'd rather have disliked him on sight. _"Please, have a seat," he said, getting straight to business. "I suppose you would like to know why you have been summoned here."

"Yes, Your Majesty." While no introduction had been offered, Bill would have known this was the King of the Goblins regardless of whether he had known that was who he was to meet. While Christopher certainly had an air of someone with power and ability, this man exuded it. In his life, only Albus Dumbledore had come close to giving this impression. And even that was a far cry from what was presented before him. Bill was fascinated in spite of himself.

Jareth waved his hand. "Never mind the formalities for now. We dragged you out here with little warning and I am certain you have other things to attend to in your own world. So, I would prefer to get through this visit as swiftly as possible, especially as your presence will be required again in approximately two weeks time."

"Ah." Bill said, nonplussed. "Is there a specific date set for that, or is it still up in the air?"

Jareth mentally awarded Bill another point in his favor. "It is up in the air. The plan is to arrange it around your convenience."

"That is very kind, but I have come to terms with the necessity for my personal life to come second to anything that deals even to the remotest degree with-" Bill stopped abruptly before a short pause. He leaned in and his brow furrowed, ever so slightly. "Hm. May I ask you a seemingly random question?"

"Please." Jareth was instantly curious by this change in demeanor. The topic at hand could wait a few minutes.

"I am unfamiliar with the manner in which your magic works, so please forgive me if this sounds a bit juvenile or elementary. Does speaking the proper name of someone or something, depending on his ability to manipulate magic either dark or light, does that give him any extra power, or call him into being here?"

Jareth paused, guessing he was referring to the Dark Wizard referred to as 'You-Know-Who' or 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.' "A fair question." He leaned back into his chair, pressing his fingertips together. "In terms of the Fae, the more powerful one of us is, the more likely we will be aware that we are being spoken of. Additionally, the more powerful the more likely to discover where and by whom. But the speaking of a name does not grant anything beyond that possible awareness to the one who is so named. As for light and dark magic," he shrugged one shoulder elegantly, "it matters not here. Magic is simply magic here, and we are part of it. It is what we are. What we do with it, on the other hand, that is where things get tricky."

"Hm." Bill said again. After a moment, he continued his previous thought. "Well, in that case, as I was saying, any time something to do with Voldemort pops up, however seemingly small of an issue, I cannot help but do what I can to prevent him from achieving whatever it is he is trying to do. Whatever date works easiest for you, let me know and I will be here to do... well, whatever it is that needs to be done."

Jareth smiled. "Very well, we will make the arrangements and let you know more as things develop.

"And now, as for why you are here. After this development of some within the Mortal World discovering the existence of the Underground and attempting to use it to achieve their own means, many things have happened. The threat to my own Kingdom has been taken care of. However, the High King and Queen have questions. And when they have questions, answers must be found. You, it seems, are the one who will bring these answers closer. Whether or not this will be a small event or one including the entire court, it has not yet been decided.

"Whatever the case may be, I want to make sure you are properly prepared. That," Jareth leaned forward, "is why you are here today."

Bill nodded. "So where do we begin?"

_Updated for spelling and continuity: April 4, 2011._


	51. Fifty: Just A Walk in the Park

_Checked for spelling and continuity: April 4, 2011._

**Chapter Fifty: Just A Walk in the Park**

It was Friday morning. As London awoke, Katrin enjoyed breakfast at a cafe on the banks of the Thames. Savoring her cup of tea, she gazed out the window, amusing herself with made-up conversations for the people who walked by. Absentmindedly, her foot wagged back and forth, the only betrayal of a restless mind.

The bell on the door tinkled, announcing a new customer. Lost in thought, Katrin did not notice as the newcomer peered around the room and, sighting upon the young woman by the window, walked over to her table.

"Morning." The voice interrupted her musings and Katrin looked up, grinning.

"It worked!" She had called and left a message the night before letting him know what her plans would be for the day. But since she had not mobile phone of her own, there was no way for Bill to get in contact with her in return. "I wasn't sure that we'd manage once I started a tourism run."

Bill sat in the chair across from Katrin. "Neither was I, actually. That's why I planned to catch you while you were still here."

"How did your meeting go?"

"Fairly well, actually. Wasn't quite in and out, but there was very little hassle or delay or anything. Unfortunately, it looks like it was only the first of a couple, if not several, more. It won't really kick off for a few days, but I will definitely be needed at the office now and again until then."

"Bummer..."

He sighed. "I'm sorry about all this. I hope it wont make a mess of your vacation."

Katrin grinned, unconcerned. "Actually, not at all. After wandering around all day yesterday I came to a conclusion."

Bill waited expectantly until it became evident that she was waiting for a response. "And what, pray, might that be."

"I rather like it here. And two weeks just is not enough!"

"So... you are going to extend your vacation?" He was not quite sure what she was getting at.

"Not exactly." Katrin pushed her teacup out of the way to lean on the table. "Sightseeing yesterday on my own was interesting and all. But I decided its much more fun when you have someone to share it with. And after thinking a little, I figured you'd be rather occupied with work considering how suddenly things have come up. So the only solution would be to stay longer until I feel like not staying any more. That way we can do fun things when you're available."

"That's great!" Bill could not hold back his enthusiasm. "But I sense there's more to your plan than meets the eye. What will you do when you're on your own?

"Busk!"

Bill blinked. "Pardon?"

"Busk. Street performance." When she clarified her meaning, understanding fell on Bills face. "I've actually given this quite some thought. I'll have to pay for my stay somehow. So why not utilize my skills? It'll give me something productive to do while you're at work and I'll be able to stay for however long! I just have to figure out what sort of licensing is required here in London and I'm good to go. And," she was getting more excited as she went on, "if you find out you'll be unavailable for a couple of weeks time, I'll see about hopping over to the continent for a bit and having a go there!"

He could not help but smile at her enthusiasm. "It sounds very... bohemian."

She grinned back. "Thats what my family often says. In any case, well still get our two weeks of vacation," _or longer... maybe..._ "however long it takes."

"Perfect. But you'll have to wait another day because I am free until tomorrow. So what's the schedule? Sticking to your original plan or shall we wing it?"

"Hmm..." Katrin pondered for a moment. "First, you should eat if you haven't yet. And then, how about an exploration of Kensington Gardens, and possibly a venture into Hyde Park should time permit?"

"Sounds like a plan!"

* * *

"My word, they're completely insane," Katrin muttered to her companion.

"Which ones?" Bill responded under his breath. "The squirrels, or the people feeding them?"

The companions were standing at the beginning of a fairly well hedged and fenced path near the Albert Memorial. The map called it the South Flower Walk, which had a nice ring to it and inspired the desire for exploration. Looking down, they could see slightly secluded benches every so often and on some of the benches within sight sat an assortment of people. They were holding an assortment of snacks, from bagged peanuts to carrot sticks, and were hand-feeding the squirrels.

Or, at least, _attempting_ to feed the squirrels.

Some of the squirrels were bold. They sat right next to the feeders waiting for the next hand out. Some of the squirrels were not so bold, remaining far enough away to run at the slightest sign of a threat.

Then there were the mocking squirrels. The squirrels who sat on the other side of the fence, just out of reach of the woman who was on her hands and knees making kissy noises in an attempt to lure the squirrels to the peanut held between her fingers.

"Um, I'll have to go with the people feeding the squirrels. The squirrels seem to have the control in this situation."

"True. True." They fell silent, eating their ice cream cones and watching the drama unfold between man and squirrel.

"You know, part of me would like to go through, wander around Kensington Gardens for a bit. But I'm a bit nervous about this rather odd gauntlet we would have to pass through."

"Again, true. How about we go back to the water and watch the boats?"

Katrin eyed a squirrel who was slowly making its way toward them, one hop at a time. "Um... Sure, whatever. But I think we need to get away from this path before I join the squirrel people."

"Eh?"

She pointed. "If I didn't know better, I would swear that critter is mischievously eyeing my ice cream." She took another bite, almost spitefully, before hooking her free arm through Bill's and dragging him away at high speed.

In minutes, the pair laughingly ran to some grass overlooking the water and promptly collapsed. Bill wadded up his paper napkin and tossed it into the trash bin a several feet away.

"Hm." Katrin was nibbling the end of her cone, eyeing the same trash bin.

"Yes?" asked Bill. "Thinking of taking aim yourself?"

"Not really. I was merely pondering whether it was far enough away that if I told you I didn't think you could do it again that it would be a true challenge." She grinned at him, cheekily.

Bill chuckled, then spent several minutes contemplating the trash bin himself. When he looked back at Katrin, he was unsurprised to find her eyes glittering with amusement. "See, now I have to try, true challenge or not because-"

"You're male," she finished for him. "You forget, I am a sister of brothers. I know how this works."

"Right. But if I make it, and it isn't a true challenge, then I'm showing off for the sake of showing off not showing off for the sake of winning. And if I miss, and it isn't a true challenge, then I'm just, well..."

"Lame?" she offered. "Once again, I am a sister of brothers. I know how this works."

"And I cannot really challenge _you_ to do it for that would defeat the purpose, and my manliness would come into question."

Katrin erupted into a fit of giggles.

"Hm. And now I begin to suspect that this was all some evil plot from the beginning. Perhaps even upon the purchasing of the ice cream and selecting of paper napkins did this scheme come into play."

She giggled even harder. When she finally could edge in a word, she asked, "What makes you think that?"

"Well," Bill said knowingly, "I have had my fair share of encounters with the wickedness that is the Female Conniving Spirit." He nodded, solemnly, as if to enforce his point.

"Not because of your sister, surely?"

Katrin's eyes were shining at him with curiosity and joy; Bill had to take a moment to catch his breath. "Nah. There's too much of an age difference for that. She's more likely to terrorize Ron. I did, however, spend seven years of my young life away at a boarding school living with those heathen spirits just a hallway away."

"Poor you." Her grin turned toward mischief. "I'm amazed you survived puberty."

"There are days," he deadpanned, "that I am, as well."

Katrin rolled her eyes with a chuckle and peered the water. "Hm. Not much in the way of boats, really."

Bill followed her gaze. "No, not really. I give you a choice then. We can either wait here in hopes one or four will drift by, or we can keep wandering."

"Why do I have to make all the decisions?"

"You're the one who is visiting."

"Good point. Then I say we wander. There are still plenty of gardens within the gardens, and I do want to find the Peter Pan statue."

Bill stood, offering a hand to Katrin. "As the lady commands!" he proclaimed. Katrin perused the little map in the guide book as he looked at her askance.

Looking up, she blinked at his expression. "Um, what'd I do?"

"What? Oh, nothing... its just..." he thought about making something up, but decided to just go ahead and ask. If he looked like an ignorant Muggle, well, since he rather was he would just have to deal with it. _Hopefully she won't abandon me and someday will understand... _"Who is this Peter Pan person, and why does he have a statue?_"_

Katrin blinked again. "You don't know the story of Peter Pan?"

Bill blushed. "Well, no. I guess I had an... odd upbringing."

This time, it was Katrin who blushed. "Oh, I didn't mean... I mean, its just surprising because its such a classic British story. I wasn't judging or anything..." She trailed off.

There was a brief, awkward silence. Finally, Bill shrugged and sighed dramatically. "I suppose Ill never know the story, though, if you will not tell me about it."

Katrin took one look at his determinedly forlorn expression and grinned again. Hooking his arm once more, she handed him the book and pointed to a spot on the map. "Okay, but you're navigating. So, there's this girl named Wendy and she has two brothers, Michael and John..."

* * *

"So he he stays young and she is all grown up?"

"Yep."

There was silence as Bill contemplated this. They were sitting at the Orangery ending their late lunch with tea and cakes. "And this is a _children's_ story?" Katrin nodded. "That's kind of depressing."

"Well, yeah," Katrin agreed. "Still, it's one of those classic coming-of-age tales that has made an impact on thousands. And there's something charming about staying a child forever, you know?"

"Carefree and without troubles," Bill agreed, wistfully. "Well, except for all that odd business with Captain Hook."

"Naturally! Gotta love the pirates."

"Seriously? Aren't pirates bloodthirsty savages who plunder, pillage, and murder?" Bill looked stumped.

"Well... I guess historically speaking you could say that. But that's a rather simplistic and one-sided view of the matter. But I'm talking about the romanticized version of pirates. The Golden Age, as it were. Sailing the seven seas, hunting for treasure, battles against the unjust rules of the British Empire. Er," she looked at him sideways, "No offense."

_Just how much did they _not _cover in Muggle Studies?_ "None taken."

"Ok, good. Besides, pirates have that whole 'bad boy' thing going for them. Thrills and giggles is what those piratey types offer. Or so I hear." She gave him a superior, knowing look.

"I'm not sure I want to know more."

Katrin grinned. "There are pirates at most of the festivals I've been to. I've heard stories." She paused to consider a moment. "Although, given the circumstances, I suppose I should say 'tall tales'." She giggled at her own joke.

Bill shook his head. "Exactly how much sugar did you put in your tea?"

Katrin just giggled more.


	52. Fifty One: Now What?

_Checked for spelling and continuity: April 4, 2011._

**Chapter Fifty-One: Now What?**

Katrin was on her own for the first of an expected several days.

And it was a perfect day to be so, all things considered. The sun was shining, but it was not oppressively hot. There was a gentle breeze lazily blowing across the Thames. For whatever reason, autumn was not behaving normally these past few weeks and people were anxious to take advantage.

She sat on the sidewalk with her guitar, playing whatever came to her fingers as her mind wandered. Her case was open in front of her gathering coins and the occasional five pound note. She was currently pondering whether she should save it all for a rainy day, especially since London rain was not always conducive to busking, or just splurge it all on something. The 'save' option was slowly winning, more because she could not decide upon what to splurge than anything else.

Finally compromising, she decided to set a goal for herself and blow the rest as soon as the impulse demanded. Just as her thoughts moved on to how much, precisely, that goal should be, a shadow fell.

"You just never quit, do you?"

She did not need to look up to recognize the voice, especially with that superior tone sounding just _so_. "Go away. I'm on vacation."

"Whatever." Christopher sat on the sidewalk next to her. He crossed his feet and leaned back, keeping himself propped upright on his elbows. "Don't you know that the High Fae do not get vacations."

Katrin's song ended on an unusually sharp chord. Brow furrowed, she turned to her brother. "Beg pardon?"

He stoically refused to meet her gaze, instead watching the passers by. "Why aren't you carousing merrily with that Bill chap of yours?"

"He's at work."

"I thought you were supposed to be spending your vacation playing tourist with him?"

"And I thought you just said the High Fae do not get vacations."

"Oh, good point."

Silence fell and after a few seconds, Katrin resumed her playing.

"So why aren't you singing along? Doesn't that usually get you better tips?"

"Yeah, I'm just not in the mood. And since, technically, I don't _need_ to gather tips since I'm still _technically_ living on my vacation fund, it doesn't really matter."

"But this is London. What if it rains?"

"The very question I was pondering before you arrived." She sighed. "What are you doing here, anyway? Surely not to question my financial situation."

Christopher sighed, too. "I should be so lucky. I have the pleasure of being the bearer of bad news."

Once again, Katrin's playing ended on that sharp chord. "What happened?"

"Nothing, yet. But there's going to be a Gala, and the family is required to attend."

Another sigh. "I was wondering when this come up. Took them long enough to figure that one out, didn't it?" Another brief pause. "I hate those things."

"Me too. I look ridiculous in Court clothes."

"You look ridiculous in general." She collected the pile of money and stuffed it in a neon orange draw-string pouch before putting her guitar away. "Hungry? I'll spring for lunch."

"Sure." Getting up, they wandered to the pub near Katrin's hotel in silence.

While they waited for their food, Katrin told Christopher about what she had been up to, both with and without Bill.

"How lame is it that he has to work so much?"

"I know. If it wasn't for the fact that I still see him almost every day, I'd probably be paranoid that he was avoiding me."

_He better not. _"Don't be such a girl."

"I didn't say that I _am_ paranoid, just that I _would be_ if things were different."

"That's still a girl thing to do."

"Shut up." She threw a salt packet at him, hitting him on the forehead. "Oh! Food's up! And just in time for you to tell me all about what's been going on at home!" She sneered gleefully at him before thanking the bartender who brought them their meals.

"No way. Eat first, then talk." With that, Christopher liberally doused his fish with malt vinegar.

* * *

"So, apart from the pie incident, everything was as normal as it gets Underground until Dad got 'The Summons'." After lunch, the siblings went back to Katrin's hotel room so she could decide what to pack and what to leave behind in her pre-paid room with hopes of being able to come back before her stuff was considered abandoned.

"How bad was it?" She tossed a couple of books in a bag and flopped down on the bed.

"Just a letter." He eyed her bag. "You call that packing?"

"There's really nothing here I can't live without besides my guitar and my laptop. One's already put away and the other I'll put in my bag before I leave tomorrow. What are the details of the Gala?"

"The regular lavish dinner with all the Court and whatever annoying minions people choose to bring -"

"They should all be dropped in an oubliette," Katrin interrupted.

"The Court?"

"No, the minions."

"They'd never all fit in just _one_ oubliette."

She sighed. "True. Oh well. Please continue."

"After dinner, Their Majesties will meet with our parents, maybe us too, maybe not, but definitely the Wizard who's been representing that Goblin bank."

"Hm. That makes sense. I suppose I'd rather be in the meeting than mingling." Katrin stared at the ceiling. "This is the same Wizard you had to follow around, right?"

"Yup." Christopher wondered if he should give her advance warning about who that Wizard actually was. When Sarah had instructed him to tell Katrin about the Gala, she had implied he should not mention it due to their needing to discover it all on their own. But he also suspected that if he were to let it slip, it would be chalked up to sibling loyalty and easily forgiven. _It wasn't an _implicit_ instruction..._

"What's he like?"

The question startled him out of his reverie. "What? Who?"

Katrin rolled her eyes. "The Wizard, of course. Is he competent? Trustworthy? Will he actually be helpful? Relate things to Their Majesties in a way that they will find judgment in Dad's favor?"

"Oh. Uh, he's cool I guess." _I hadn't thought of him in that regards._

"That's it?"

"Well..." He racked his brain trying to come up with an answer that did not relate his analysis of Bill's character to compatibility with his sister.

Katrin's eyes narrowed. "You're hiding something."

Christopher tried to keep his expression from looking shifty. "No I'm not." _How does she always know?_

"Fine, don't tell me." She returned her gaze to the ceiling. "I'll find out eventually."

_Yes... Yes you will._ "Let's see, what else do you need to know..."

* * *

Bill sat across from Remus and Sirius in the kitchen of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. His long lunch between meetings was, unfortunately, not long enough to meet up with Katrin. Still, he needed to give an update to the Order as to the current mood at Gringotts and some other information he had uncovered. That done quickly enough, he settled in for a chat with the two men he considered friends as well as compatriots.

"And I just don't know what to do about her," Bill concluded.

"You would think she might have gotten the hint by now," Remus agreed.

"Is there someone else you can shove her toward?" suggested Sirius with a shrug.

"Shove her? What, like over a bridge? Come on, Padfoot."

"You know what I meant, Moony. Although that bridge idea might not be so bad."

Bill chuckled. They rarely used their childhood nicknames for each other when the entire Order was around. But when the conversation was vaguely playful, and they were around a select few, the two friends whose worlds had fallen apart around them returned to a happier time.

"I can't think of anyone who she might be interested in. Everyone I work with is either a Goblin or already taken. Or of questionable alliance and, for all her faults, Fleur is dedicated to the work we're trying to do. Unless one of you two is interested?"

Remus looked mildly panicked. Sirius just raised an eyebrow in disdain. "Please," he said. "What about Charlie?"

Bill shook his head. "Still in Romania. Not very convenient."

"It's interesting," Remus commented to Sirius, "how it is the inconvenience of Charlie's location not the girl herself that prevents him from going for that plan."

"Desperation like that is rather sad in a man," was the reply.

"You only say that because you are not the object of her affections." Bill sighed. "Very determined affections." He slumped back in his chair. The other two just laughed.

"And you say you've told her you're involved with someone else?" asked Remus.

"Several times a day. She usually just turns around in a huff and then goes all Veela. I think she's convinced that she'll eventually correct me in the error of my ways."

Sirius scratched his head. "I've never understood that about the female gender. As soon as they hit puberty they start trying to _fix_ every male they come in contact with."

"Just because you experienced that several times in Sixth Year-"

"And Fifth." Sirius' voice was suspiciously indignant.

Remus smirked. "Of course. I'm just saying that it doesn't apply to everyone. Sometimes," he clasped Sirius on the shoulder, "you just have to let those old grudges die."

"Whatever. I still say Charlie's your best bet. Bring him up in conversation more."

"You could invite Katrin to lunch somewhere Fleur would see you two."

"Firstly, wouldn't that be mean? Secondly, Katrin doesn't know about all this." He waved his hand around.

Remus shrugged. "Well, naturally you wouldn't tell her about the Order."

Sirius looked at Remus out of the corner of his eye. "I sincerely hope you're being deliberately obtuse."

Remus shrugged again. "I am of the opinion that life is short. Too short these days. You should just tell her and get it over with. That way you can move on without secrets. We have too many secrets as it is."

"Smart as you are, wise as you are, it's a wonder you ever allowed James and me to be your friends." Sirius sighed.

For the third time, Remus shrugged. "That was the best decision I ever made."

"Stop being all mushy."

"Stop being all self depreciating."

Bill looked back and forth at the two and grinned. "Stop fighting like an old married couple. Or I'll recommend _both_ of you to Fleur!" Sirius snorted and Remus grinned as well. "I think you're right, though."

"You'll pick Charlie?"

"No," Bill replied around a chuckle. "At least, not yet. I think I may just have to tell Katrin the truth."

"Do it at a nice restaurant. That way if she freaks out, she won't make a spectacle in public."

Remus turned in his chair and looked at Sirius. "Does that _ever_ work the way it is supposed to?"

It was Sirius' turn to shrug. "So I've heard."

"I doubt that would work with her in any case. You forget she makes her living making a spectacle of herself. She's actually performing for tips in Muggle London on days we don't meet up."

"I have _got _to meet this girl. Doesn't sound like your typical Muggle."

Bill nodded. "That she's not."

"Hey," interrupted Remus, "does she do card tricks?"

"I don't think so, just plays music and sings."

"Too bad. I've always wanted to see card tricks done without magic."

Sirius gave Remus a slow, disturbed look. "Anyone would think you've been the one who lived as a recluse all these years."

Bill just laughed.


	53. Fifty Two: What to Wear, What to Wear?

_(April , 2011: Author's Note: Ok, so now that I am back in the swing of things, here's the deal: Because I have grown-up things to do (like taxes) and not a dissertation and other college papers to avoid, I am not writing as much as before. Alas. Still, I think on this tale often and my New Year's Resolution was to spend at least a few minutes a day on writing of some sort. I've been doing ok and we're on month four so wahey! There is hope! If you just read the last fifty-one chapters (plus prologue), then you are up to date. If not, a notable change I've made is to bump the timeline a little so Katrin's visit is taking place closer to the end of September, making the October dates we see here more accurate. I also gave this a thorough once over and fixed TONS of spelling and grammar errors (though I am sure there are plenty more), switched the spelling to American instead of British (since I am back on this side of the pond, it makes more sense), and have finally figured out who is who (whose bright idea was it to give Katrin five brothers, anyway?). And remembered, for the most part, where I was going with the little details. Also, Chris is now "Christopher" instead of "Christoph." I think that's all the big stuff. Phew! Enjoy.)_

**Chapter Fifty-Two: What to Wear, What to Wear?**

Bill stood in front of the tall mirrors, inspecting the dress robes he currently wore with severe intensity. He looked sharp enough, to be sure, but was 'sharp' the look he was looking for? His mind wandered back to what King Jareth had told him the week before:

_Anything you can do to make yourself more... Wizard-like and less... non-magical Mortal, the better. The High Fae often are most comfortable with the foreign when they can categorize with extremes and archetypes._

Unfortunately, Bill was not all-too familiar with what the visual differences between a Muggle and Wizard might be. So he found himself standing in Gladrags Wizardwear in London, surrounded by stacks of opened boxes and garment bags, piles of discarded robes in numerous styles on most surfaces.

"Your looks would greatly improve if you would stop scowling at your reflection, Bill."

Bill started at the unexpected criticism. Looking over his shoulder he found Charlie sitting on one of the cushioned chairs in the corner. "Hey!" He stepped down from the fitting platform and crossed the room to greet his brother. "When did you get in town?"

"This morning. Stopped at home first thing. Mum said you would be here during your lunch break so I thought I'd try to catch you. I'm only here until tomorrow night. Got a pick-up day after tomorrow and then it's back to Romania for another couple months."

"Good thing you stopped by, then. I've got a big event for work I'm being sent to first thing in the morning."

"Mum mentioned that. Hence the new dress robes?" When Bill nodded, Charlie looked him up and down. "They look nice. Ring it up and let's go have lunch."

Bill sighed and went back to the mirrors. "The problem is I am not sure 'nice' is the right adjective I need. It's too complicated to explain why right now, but apparently I need to make an impression as a Wizard, not only one that presents the dignity of the occupation, but also defines himself as the furthest thing from a Muggle as possible." He gestured toward a stack of magazines piled on the table in front of the chairs.

Charlie picked one up and flipped through the catalog of Muggle formal wear. He looked up at Bill, back down at the magazine, and back up at Bill again. "Hm."

They remained in silence for several minutes, Bill continuing to look at his reflection dubiously, Charlie flipping through more of the magazines and brochures. Their contemplations were finally broken when a clerk came out of the back room. "Well, Mr. Weasley? This is one of our finest sets of dress robes. And I must say they are most flattering of the ones you have tried on so far. What say you?" The silence that met her question lasted just shy of what might have been considered awkward.

"They are very nice..." He hesitated.

She sighed the sigh of a put upon woman who had been in this situation for far too long, one too many times. "But?"

"I don't think they are quite what I am looking for."

"Well," she was speaking slowly, and with the patience of someone about to snap. "What _are_ you looking for, precisely."

"There's the question, isn't it." Bill rubbed the spot between his eyebrows.

"Here's a thought," Charlie offered. "Do you have anything you would put on, say, Albus Dumbledore for a formal occasion?"

The clerk, an older Witch named Mabel if her name tag was to be believed, turned to Charlie. "That sort of style is usually preferred by the older Wizard, one whose clothing choices help to visually define precisely who he is rather than having anything to do with the modern trends so popular in someone of your or Mr. Weasley's age." She seemed ready with a litany of other protests but was interrupted before she could proceed.

"No, no," Bill said, stepping off the platform once more. "That actually is the right idea. Nothing quite as, er, extravagant as what a Wizard of Dumbledore's status might want, of course. But I think it needs to lean ever so slightly on the, outlandish or... or..."

"Eccentric!" Charlie supplied.

Bill pointed at his brother. "Yes, eccentric."

Mabel narrowed her eyes at Charlie, then concentrated on Bill, seeming to appraise his very personality. "Perhaps..." A slow smile lit up her face, her eyes filling with mystery and plotting.

"He could always try something that is definitely too extreme and then back off," suggested Charlie. "Get it going in the right direction?"

She nodded slowly before waving her finger at Bill and making her way to the back room once more. "Actually, I think I may have some things that will work just right. You just wait right there. It's a pity you did not mention this was your aim when you first came in; I would have begun with a whole different tactic..." She continued talking as the door shut behind her.

"Good grief," Bill said when Mabel was finally out of earshot. "I have never in all my life taken this long to find something to wear."

"How long have you been here?"

"About two hours."

"Two _hours_? I thought you were here on your lunch break!"

Bill shrugged and leaned against a mirror. "Management appears to be on my side because of the magnitude of the event. It was arranged I could take the rest of today off to get everything in order. I should have had this done by now, but gathering that Muggle stuff took several visits. And, after the past three days of 'lunch breaks', I am not sure if Madam Malkin's will ever allow me on the premises again. I swear, I feel like I have a better appreciation for what girls must go through when in this situation."

"Speaking of," Charlie grinned. "Too bad your girlfriend couldn't have helped you out with this problem."

Bill sighed. "True. I keep telling myself I need to get through this thing for Gringotts and then I am determined to find a way to break the news to her."

"Oh ho! Not denying she's your girlfriend, then?" Through a couple owls, Bill had kept Charlie vaguely informed on the situation with Katrin and Charlie, in return, supplied plenty of what he considered to be helpful opinions on the matter.

"Well, it is not a conversation we have had or anything," Bill shrugged again, "but I admit to thinking of her that way."

"Considering she flew all the way over here and is extending her stay just to work around your schedule to spend time with you, I guess it is a good sign."

Mabel burst into the room right at that moment, stalling any further conversation on the subject. Her arms were laden with a stack of large boxes in a variety of colors. "Here we have it, Mr. Weasley. I had to wade rather far into the depths of our stock room, but I think I have come up with some perfect options. Now, most of these will be far too, what was the word? _Extravagant_ for your age and tastes, but perhaps if we use some of the items to accessorize what you already have on we can create something all your own style." She had a delighted gleam in her eyes "These are more specialized items which will bring the price up, but I'll throw in some pairs of socks to even it out."

Charlie met Bill's eyes as Mabel unstacked the boxes and started opening them. "That is very generous of you," he said, his glance flitting over to the display of outlandish socks taking up most of one wall. Bill suppressed a grin at his brother's doubtful expression.

"Oh it is no trouble at all, sir! I do so love helping a Wizard define himself this way! I remember when Mr. Lockhart first came in all those years ago. One of my co-workers snagged him before I could. And with all the publicity she moved up rather quickly in the fashion world!" She looked up at Charlie. "Perhaps you would like to be next, sir?"

"Er... Well, there is not much need for, er, fashion, when tending to dragons, actually."

* * *

She sighed. "Well, that is a shame but I suppose it is true. Now take off that outer robe, Mr. Weasley, and let us try this one on for size."

Katrin thought it strange when Christopher told her the Gala would take place the day after she arrived Underground. She had expected her presence to be needed sooner. Not to help with the planning and the details, perhaps. But she knew her mother would be pulled in several directions at once and Katrin thought she should available to help her in whatever capacity she was needed.

Yet when she arrived, everything was already orchestrated and in place, down to the minutiae.

Granted, she the afternoon included a three hour session with her father and Christopher, during which they went over the schedule and the seemingly endless list of guests from the Court of the High Fae. But that was more for Katrin to know what she needed to know as opposed to make suggestions or corrections. The only things left for her to do, it seemed, were several fittings for a new set of regalia.

Katrin sighed heavily, enduring the process of the second one as patiently as she could manage.

"Stand up straight, Highness," the Goblin seamstress instructed, "an' try not to fidget." From her tone, Katrin could tell that her patience was wearing thin as well.

This really came as no surprise. There was a reason why new Court finery was a rare occurrence. Even though nearly everything around them, including the world they lived in, was created entirely by magic, had magic at its very core, if one's full Court regalia was crafted any way but meticulously by hand it was considered at the very least an indication of laziness. And, more likely, reason enough to have one's status in the social circle of the Fae lowered.

That Jareth had his family's regalia made in-Kingdom, by Goblins no less, elevated his.

Apparently, because this was the largest Gala in some time and taking place in the Kingdom of the Goblins, those in the Court of the Goblin King were to have an entirely new set. Katrin would have thought this to be reason alone for her to have returned Underground sooner rather than later. Yet, here she stood, trying on a newly crafted gown designed under the direction of her mother and crafted based on measurements taken some time ago.

_Thankfully,_ she thought, _little has changed in that regard. _How a Goblin had been discovered with the skills to create a garment as delicate as what adorned her now, let alone with enough room in the seams to make adjustments at all, was a true mystery. But Katrin supposed it would have been helpful if the deadline for the garments was not less than a day away.

Katrin sighed again.

"Highness, no fidgetin'," came the firm but gentle rebuke.

She closed her eyes, thinking about the mood everyone in the Castle seemed to be in. Edgy, to be sure. And again, no surprise there. When she asked him about it that morning, her father told her a Gala had not been held in this Kingdom in his memory, which went back quite some time. For reasons unexplainable, her parents' wedding did not count. _Just a little bit of pressure, then, to get it right I guess. _

But there was something else, some undercurrent of odd that she could not put her finger on. She only got this particular feeling from her parents and elder brother. They seemed to be sharing a secret, Christopher hiding it terribly. _I probably would not have suspected anything if he would not have been so sketchy whenever he knew I was around._ She contemplated this revelation for a bit. _It's true... I walked into the room a couple of times and he was his normal self. But as soon as he noticed I was around, he'd get all weird. Skittish, almost, and anxious._

"Highness..."

"I know, I know." She had not even gotten the sigh out that time. _Guess I'm a little skittish, too. _In an effort to remain calm and, as instructed, not fidget, she let her thoughts drift instead to her recent adventures.

"Well." The squeaky voice pulled her from her thoughts some time later. "That should do it for now. I would like to have you in it one more time this evening just to make sure and we can call it done. If that is convenient, of course, Highness."

Katrin nodded. "Yes, of course. But when do I get to see it in the mirror?"

"Oh, not until tomorrow, just before you wear it in public for the first time. You know that!"

"I'd rather hoped that rule had changed, actually."

The little seamstress clicked her tongue. "Not a rule; a tradition!

_Goblin traditions. _"Ah. Of course."

The Goblin snapped her fingers and five more female Goblins scurried into the room. It required two ladders, but they undressed Katrin and carried the garment out without her being able to see much beyond the fabric, and that she had seen while she wore it.

Alone in her room, she dressed in a pair of orange fleece pajama bottoms with bright, pink pigs wearing snorkels and an oversized t-shirt. Her choice in garments was more a statement of rebellion against the injustice of not being able to choose her own outfit for the Gala than anything else, no matter how lovely she was certain it would be, but what she chose was also comfortable. Finishing the outfit with bunny slippers, she went in search of dinner.


	54. Fifty Three: The Gala

**Chapter Fifty-Three: The Gala**

It took everything in Christopher's power to keep himself from pacing. He sat in the antechamber to the Great Hall, wagging his foot as he waited to be summoned. Soon, he hoped, a Goblin servant would appear at the side door leading to a small hallway at the end of which the rest of his family presumably gathered in yet another room. As hosts of the Gala, they would be the last members of the Court to be announced, save the High King and Queen themselves. Shortly after that, Bill would be brought in to present the case for aid on behalf of the Goblins living in the Magical Realm as well as appraise them of the situation in regards to how it held potential for danger to the inhabitants of the Underground. It was a finely choreographed dance. Christopher's current assignment was to keep Bill company while the waiting went on.

He knew the assignment served another purpose. Bill had arrived late that morning and was immediately sequestered into this antechamber. His mother remained convinced that keeping him from meeting Katrin by chance before the Gala was not the most noble course of actions, but not even she could deny the potential for disaster should their meeting take place in the vicinity of the arrival of certain more volatile members of the Court. While their discovery in front of the entire Court was not ideal either, whatever would happen would happen under the guarding eye of his father and Their Majesties who, for reasons unfathomable, had a curious fondness for Sarah and her children. Jareth often joked about the unhealthy level of their interest, but in truth the whole family – and many in the Court – knew that Their Majesties would never permit any harm to come to the family of the Goblin King in Their presence.

_Small blessings,_ Christopher thought.

Besides, by assigning him as the one to keep an eye on things, Christopher was also being kept away from Katrin. And after dinner the previous night during which several painfully awkward moments occurred, it became very clear that he was having a difficult time keeping the secret, especially with Katrin tipped off to his knowing something.

_In all fairness,_ he thought sullenly, _they should have remembered I have never been able to hide things from her for long. How many birthday surprises have we two ruined because I was too nosy to not find out what plans had been made and she didn't have the presence of mind not to ask me the one question I could not answer without giving it away, but by not answering at all it would be given away too. She always knows when I'm lying, too. And once she knows _that_, _her_ curiosity always gets the better of her. _He suspected the Labyrinth worked some strange magic on the siblings, pulling them toward something, but nothing could ever be pin-pointed. _Thank goodness she's so distracted by Bill in the first place that she has yet to focus on my involvement. _

That truly was the source of his own impatience and anxiety. To be sure, he was nervous about the Gala, how things would go, how it would affect his father, his family, and the Kingdom. But he knew that in a few short hours the Wrath of Katrin would very likely be focused on his direction. _And she's going to have the entire Gala to sit and stew on it._ It was a very grim prospect, in his estimation.

In an effort to relax, Christopher took in the image of the Wizard, so close in age to himself and about to face the entire High Court of the Fae, subject to their whims and inquiry. His father had tried to prepare Bill as best he could; Christopher was there for one of those meetings. But the general sense everyone had was that this was akin to a lamb being led out to slaughter. _Especially since at least one aspect of his life was about to be laid bare and, possibly, even come crashing down upon his head. I sure hope you are right about all this, Pop._

Per arrangement, Christopher met Bill at the Bank to escort him to this room Underground where he was left to get dressed and ready for the Gala. Christopher went off to do the same, coming back after a family lunch. When he returned, Bill was sitting next to a table with the remains of his own lunch left on a tray. _A lunch for an army, _he recalled. Apparently unsure what their Mortal guest would prefer, it appeared the Goblin chefs had sent up some of everything.

Inquiring first after the book he found Bill reading,_Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes, _Christopher was prompted to inquire more as to what exactly Bill did for a living. Which led into a conversation about what he _used_ to do for a living before taking a desk job. As the hours slid by, the conversation ebbed and the noise from outside began to leak through the window. Bill, ever investigative, rose to look at what was going on.

Now Bill stood at a window, hands clasped behind his back. This particular window overlooked the courtyard where the Court had been arriving and mingling for several hours. It had been transformed to an area of opulence specifically for what Katrin termed as the "social hour" portion of the Gala. Music was playing, drinks and hors d'oeuvres were appearing when desired, and conversation of the meaningless variety was being engaged in. Slowly, ever so slowly, they were being brought inside. First all the underlings and hangers-on who could not be avoided nor uninvited. Soon, Christopher supposed, the members of Court would begin to be announced.

Bill seemed to be taking it all in, looking slightly bemused. He stood rather still, but for the movement of his eyes flicking back and forth reflected in the glass. Bill would likely cut quite a swath tonight, especially compared to what Christopher was familiar with seeing. He was still very much Bill, with the ponytail and toothy earring, the gleam of intelligence and curiosity present in his eyes.

But gone was the casual adventurer getup. Instead he wore layers of mostly black garments that he referred to as 'Dress Robes'. From what was visible at his wrists and neck, he clearly wore a white shirt of some kind, and there was indication that the base of it all was a variation of a modern tuxedo. The outermost robe billowed slightly as he had crossed the room, a feat rather improbable to achieve considering it looked to be made of some sort of leather. Additionally, it gleamed lightly iridescent when light hit it just so. Bill shifted to lean closer to the window, simultaneously putting one hand in a pocket, and Christopher saw a flash of rich, dark blue. The ensemble was like nothing he had ever seen, certainly would never have expected to come out of the Mortal World.

_Katrin is going to eat this up,_ he thought before shrugging mentally. _After she kills me, of course._

The thought brought all his anxiety back and, once again, he felt the need to pace. There was a sudden sympathy for his father's comments regarding missing the days of kicking a few Goblins around haphazardly. He watched Bill stand there for another few minutes until, just when he thought he would not be able to stand it anymore, a knock broke the silence.

"Enter," Christopher responded.

Bill turned, saw the door open, and watched as a small Goblin scampered into the room and bowed low. He shook his head, still trying to get used to the idea that there were different kinds of Goblins.

"Highness," it chirped, "It's time."

Christopher looked up, meeting Bill's eyes. He raised an eyebrow at the Wizard, who nodded at the Prince.

* * *

Unlike her brother, Katrin made no effort to conceal her impatience. She stalked up and down the room, resisting the urge to bite her nails. Considering she wore gloves, a simple vice to avoid.

"Kati." Sarah's amusement could be heard in her tone. "Sit." She rolled her eyes as her daughter collapsed in a chair, glaring sullenly at the ornate doors leading to the Great Hall. "Oh, Katrin. Honestly."

Katrin sat up, contrite, smoothing her skirt. "Sorry. I just wish they'd get on with it already."

"Yes, I know. Soon."

"I hate these things; they seem so pointless. Do you know why Dad can't just meet with Their Majesties alone and be done with it?"

Sarah smiled, deciding to answer the oft argued question if only to pass the time.

"You know how the Fae are, Kati. Half the time it seems Their Majesties' sole purpose is to keep the peace between members of the High Court. Having events like this where information can be given to everyone at once is one of Their means for success. No one can justly claim to have been left in the dark on purpose."

"And the seemingly never-ending question-and-answer phase that is sure to follow?"

"They want input on everything and responsibility for none." Christopher came into the room in time to hear the conversation, throwing in a recent revelation of his own about the proceedings, Jareth right behind him.

"Hmph. I still say it is dumb and a waste of time." Katrin knew she was being disagreeable for the sake of it, but did not particularly care.

"Well, there you have it," Sarah pointed out. "Time is something the Fae have in abundance."

"But this, as always, is a debate for another day," Jareth inserted. "For speaking of which, it is time." Holding one hand out to Sarah, he gently helped her to her feet before turning to Katrin. She had risen to stand in front of her chair, looking down as she fussed with the draping of her gown. He smiled fondly at his only daughter and, putting two fingers under her chin, lifted her face to meet her eyes. His face turned serious. "Katrin," he touched her cheek gently, love and what might have been remorse mingling in his mismatched eyes. "Know this: everything involving this Gala has been orchestrated deliberately, with reason."

Katrin's brow furrowed in confusion. She had a feeling she was finally on the verge of discovering what had been hidden from her of late. Equal to that was the feeling she might not appreciate it. "Um, ok," she responded lamely.

He smiled again, kissing her forehead. "You are so like your mother."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Sarah piped in from behind him with a chuckle. "I always see more of you." She took his arm and they walked to the door.

They stood there, King of the Goblins with his Queen on his arm, their eldest children falling in behind them. Katrin turned and looked sharply at her brother, eyebrows raised and nodded her head toward their father. Christopher sighed in return and looked away as the doors opened to the Great Hall.

* * *

High King Oberon, ruler of the Land of the Fae, brought his greeting to an end and finally sat in the ornate throne on the recently erected dais. As he did, an artfully crafted wave spread around the Great Hall as the Court seated itself in order of rank.

Whatever she might say about the Gala, Katrin had to admit the fine choreography and ceremony were something to behold. She found herself wondering how it all came to pass as His Majesty spoke once more.

"Call forth the Petitioner."

Bill heard much of the opening speech through the heavy closed door. He supposed it was enchanted to let him hear what he needed in order to prepare. When he heard himself referred to as "The Petitioner," he barely stopped the snort. The king had warned him of the potential for odd turns of phrase, but that was not quite what he had expected.

He regained his composure just as the door opened and proceeded into the Great Hall. Having run his part in his head so many times, his brain went into auto-pilot. _Walk so many steps before bowing... keep your eyes on the dais... don't make eye contact until told to rise... look only at Their Majesties until the other Court members are introduced... _On and on it went. As he walked, he felt the eyes on him. His peripheral vision took in the grand picture and, as he neared the center of the room, he had a vague sense that his must be akin to the experience of being brought before the Wizengamot.

Katrin paid no attention to the new arrival to the Hall, so deep in thought was she. Having already been privy to most of the information, she felt no guilt at tuning out the proceedings in an effort to stave off boredom.

However, the sound of a familiar accent, and equally familiar voice, penetrated her thoughts more swiftly than anything she might have expected. Her head snapped toward the speaker her father brought before the Court, the Wizard with whom her brother had spent so much time. The pounding of her heart flooded her ears until she heard nothing but the sound of the voice. She could not even register what words were being said as recognition sunk in, of the color and length of his hair, the shape of his face, every feature she had painted into her memory sharpening into reality before her.

"Bill?" the strangled whisper escaped her lips of its own accord.

* * *

"Your Majesties, I come before you at the request of Jareth, King of the Goblins and upon your command to present a truthful account of recent happenings in the Mortal World which may present a terrible danger to you and your kind." The script flowed as though all parties had rehearsed it together. It was a fascinating study on ritual, or would be had Bill the time to observe and take notes. On it went, playing out as tradition dictated until they would be given the freedom to venture to the heart of the matter.

The sound of his name brought it all to a halt. Quiet as the beating wings of an owl, it was nevertheless an interruption that came as the High King of the Fae was mid-sentence. All eyes turned toward the daughter of the King of the Goblins, all eyes – including his own, drawn by power beyond his control.

She sat in a chair just below and in front of a woman she acutely resembled, next to whom sat King Jareth. She sat there, looking as stunned as someone who had witnessed a terrible accident but could not look away. He could feel his own carefully schooled expression melt away as dawning and recognition replaced it. He met here eyes, seeing in them surprise and disbelief to mirror his own.

One hand flew to her lips as she realized her utterance had been aloud, interrupting the High King himself. Startled anxiety replaced the surprise, embarrassment joined confusion.

"Well," High Queen Titania broke the lingering silence. "An unexpected development. Princess, do you know this Mortal?"

Katrin pulled her stare from Bill's face and rose, turning toward the dais. She could feel his eyes remain on her, however, and felt oddly comforted by it. She answered, quietly, "Yes, Your Majesty."

"And are we correct to think you did not expect to see him here?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Hm." Her tone was thoughtful as she looked back and forth between the two.

"What about you, Wizard?" Oberon's voice bore little of the kindness Titania directed toward Katrin. "Did you enter this Chamber with the ill advised intent for deception?"

Disregarding his better judgement he did not respond immediately, continuing to watch Katrin instead. Concern was building, but not for himself. He recalled another segment of his instructions: _Do not deviate from the Ceremony for any reason. While not a binding ritual by any stretch, tradition speaks to the heart of the Fae. It is not broken lightly. _With great effort, he dragged his gaze to meet the High King's. "No, Your Majesty, I did not." After what seemed like an eternity, during which Bill felt as though his mind was lit ablaze, Oberon finally nodded and looked away, turning to his Queen. Released, Bill watched Katrin once more.

"Katrin," Titania's voice was still gentle, "calm yourself, child. You have nothing to fear here."

_Easier said,_ she thought. Something niggled at the back of her mind, something she thought she ought to remember, something that made her think she should be more angry than she currently felt. Instead, it was all she could do to keep the panic at bay. _They are all watching. They all know. And he is here, at their mercy. How is this happening? _Titania smiled knowingly at her, as though she knew Katrin's thoughts. _She probably does, knowing her._ Katrin took a deep breath, focusing on the peace the High Queen seemed to exude.

Later, when replaying the whole scenario in her head, Katrin would believe the High King and Queen were playing a game of the 'Good Cop/Bad Cop' variety. At the time, however, Oberon's next question served only to push her over the edge.

"And what of you, Goblin King?" he asked. "Were you aware of their previous meeting?"

"Of course." Jareth's voice dripped with superiority.

Katrin could not control her reaction. "You _knew?" _She rounded on her father with the accusation, incredulous at his interference, even more so at his attitude toward it. He raised an eyebrow in what might be marked as disdain. But as she met his eyes, she heard his whisper in her mind: _Breathe._ It did not ease the "You knew," she repeated, "yet you said nothing?"

"Why should I have? Your relationship has little bearing on these proceedings." His tone indicated he saw no reason for the delay, the conversation that was being held, that they should get back to the subject at hand.

Katrin recalled suddenly what he had said to her in the antechamber. _Everything was orchestrated deliberately, was it? Very well. But if I do not get an explanation... _She was not in the slightest bit mollified, but it put her in mind of where she was, who she was, and why they were there. She responded with only, "I see."

Titania leaned back in her throne, regarding the family. The king, seemingly indifferent. The princess, vying between barely controlled rage and betrayal. The prince, curiously enough, poorly masking a guilty conscience. The queen, however, met her bemused look for bemused look. Their wordless interchange was brief, and Sarah shrugged one shoulder before standing. She placed one hand on Katrin's shoulder and, without a sound, clearly told her daughter to sit. Through all this, Oberon had been watching the Mortal and, from the observations he sent her wordlessly, was intrigued by and approved of what he saw.

"Interesting." _There is clearly more to talk about than is to be covered here,_ she though. _Perhaps just one Queen and mother to another._ Aloud, she said, "Well, now that we have covered that," she looked at Oberon, "shall we continue, then?"

Bill waited for Katrin to seat herself once more. He waited as she regarded her brother with a glare. He waited as her eyes then closed, her mother stroking her hair briefly. He waited as she opened her eyes, seeking out his. He waited until a smile finally played at the corners of her mouth, her demeanor finally relaxing. And only when she broke his gaze with the barest hint of a nod, turning her attention to Their Majesties once more – who were also waiting and watching – did Bill finally turn back to them as well.

"Now then," High King Oberon, ruler of the Land of the Fae looked around the Great Hall, silencing the whispers and murmurs with a single, sweeping glance. "Where were we?" And with that, the age-old script interrupted minutes before continued.


	55. Fifty Four: After

**Chapter Fifty-Four: After**

The hours passed. Bill answered question after question, often several times over, from what seemed to be every member of the High Court. Their tone indicated a need to demonstrate importance, though for whom Bill was not certain. Still, he continued on as truthfully as he was able, as tirelessly as he was able. At the first sign of his throat being parched, two Goblins appeared unasked for. One carried a small table, the other a tray with a carafe and a glass, both made of the finest crystal and filled with the clearest, sweetest water he had ever tasted..

The High King and Queen spoke little once the initial round of inquiry and explanation was over. They reigned over the proceedings, delegating the order in which the other members of the High Court were to speak. The Goblin King had apparently little to offer as well, though Bill could not help but be amused at the bored indifference plainly written on his face, expressed through his body language. King Jareth had warned him to be prepared for this reaction, for disinterest and a lack of regard. From the cryptic explanation that explained nothing at all, Bill had surmised that there were deeper political implications for it all. Again he found himself musing what a fascinating study the whole experience would make had he not been so tightly woven in the story of it all.

During the handful of lulls in the questioning, generally taking place after a new and particularly startling piece of information was revealed, it took everything inkling of Bill's self-control to not steal a glance at Katrin. Though he found that even keeping his gaze where he was instructed during those initial briefings and meetings, he could just barely see her out of the corner of his eye. At one point, he could not help but wonder just how much of this placement was by design. If the tales were true, the Fae delighted in mischief and manipulation. _But to what extent?_ he wondered. At this, the High Queen's gaze slowly moved from whatever else she was looking at to meet Bill's eyes. The corner of her mouth twitched almost imperceptibly. _Interesting_, he thought. Before he could think anything further, however, another question arose from a member of the Court. And the questioning began again.

* * *

Katrin had continued to to watch Bill through it all and felt within her a strange sense of pride at every word he spoke. The entire Gala had been monumentally disconcerting for her and from what she knew of him after the past few months, she surmised he was not as calm as outwardly appearing. Still, on he went, never losing patience, never faltering no matter how he was pressed by the Court. _What a waste of time,_ she thought. _All this posturing for each other, and none of it to come to any solution. _It took everything in her not to roll her eyes.

Finally, King Oberon called the proceedings to a halt. The entire Court rose as Their Majesties did. Bill continued on kept his eyes on Titania and Oberon until just after they they turned to leave the room. Immediately and without turning his head, they snapped to meet her own.

Her carefully schooled expression, one that she had struggled to keep throughout the event, threatened to waver as she watched the serious and concerned look slowly change into one of amusement. Whatever was striking him as funny she could not tell, but the sparkle in his eyes was catching and she just wanted to laugh at it all. _Perhaps that is it,_ she thought. _This whole situation _is_ rather ridiculous._

There was an unspoken signal from her father as soon as the door closed behind Their Majesties. A pair of Goblin guards came forward to escort Bill to the side room once more. The barest hint of an ironic smile played at the corners of his mouth as he bowed to her father. Before turning away, he threw one last, lingering glance her direction. She could have almost sworn there was reassurance in his eyes.

Katrin thought on this as she followed her parents and brother into the antechamber. On the one hand, she could tell that Bill's feelings for her, whatever those were, had not altered with the earlier fiasco. On the other hand, she really did not want to be reassured. If she were, that would make her feel better, and she did not want to feel better. She realized that the initial shock had long since worn off. In its wake she was left feeling dreadfully embarrassed. Embarrassed that her inner feelings were brought into the open before the entire Fae Court. Embarrassed that this was entirely due to her own reaction, her inability to exhibit the self-control that always came so easily to her parents and, at least in formal situations, her brother. Embarrassed that her own self-control, come about through hard practice and had fled, leaving her feeling like a teenager once again. Embarrassed that everyone dear to her knew what was coming but left her in the dark, deliberately being excluded in a family that was known for keeping each other close, again, in front of the entire Fae Court. That left her feeling as though she had been played. Which led her to one, single, seemingly logical course of action.

Blame someone else.

Reassurance would only make her think rationally, and she was just too riled up to accept that as an option. _Sorry, Bill, _she thought at him, though she knew he would not hear it, _reassurance will just have to wait._ The doors to the antechamber gently closed on their own behind her. This Katrin found to be further dissatisfying as she would have liked to slam them shut instead. She stood before them, giving in to her frustration and anger and focusing on her target of choice: her father.

Jareth felt her seething behind him and could not stop himself from grinning. Christopher settled to lean against the opposite wall, looking warily at Katrin as though he fully expected to have something thrown at him. Sarah sat at the long table and when he made eye contact, she shook her head almost imperceptibly. He raised an eyebrow and shrugged, and she rolled her eyes and leaned back. The High King and Queen were seated next to his wife, Titania fairly bursting with open curiosity. Oberon looked him square in the eye. _Push her,_ he heard in his mind.

Jareth nodded. It was not the way he preferred to handle family situations, especially those as highly intimate as this one. _But the cat, as Sarah so often says, is out of the bag. _Time, he knew, was not as fleeting as it had been once, just over thirty years ago, but if this was to be then steps needed to be taken. Finally he turned to face his daughter, expressionless. "Well?"

That was precisely the opening she needed, her temper flaring up again at his demeanor. "_What_" she practically spat the word out, "was that back there? What are you playing at?"

He leaned against the table, raising an eyebrow. "_Playing_? You think this is a game?"

"Isn't it? You... you preach at us our entire lives about the evils of Court intrigue. How our private lives are private and we should not air our confidences in a manner that leaves us vulnerable to retaliation. How our secrets are to be guarded. We have isolated ourselves from so many for so long. And for what?" She had not understood until just then that a sense of betrayal also fueled her anger. "Do you value us so little that you so easily throw us before the lions with such disregard?"

She had approached him during this tirade, her voice rising until she nearly shouted though she stood but inches away from him. Jareth suspected she had no idea she had moved, blind fury and the betrayal she clearly felt now raging her eyes. Having two parents with their own variations of irrational tempers had not done her any service. "I did what needed to be done to protect you-"

She cut him off. "Oh, like hell you did. How does being blindsided like that offer me any protection?

"Katrin, you should know that you are not the one who needs guarding from the Court."

"I-"

"Even without your connection, Bill is pegged as a target. He is a Mortal, serving this Kingdom, serving _me. _He is the first human to present himself with the ability to use magic in a way we Fae have never seen."

"Yes, but-"

"Exactly. Yes, but _you are involved with him_. Now he is not only a target for himself but a target for those who wish to get to you. Or, even more likely, to me through you."

"All the more reason we should have known! How do you prepare for something without knowledge? We could have pretended there was nothing! Or-"

"Katrin, _think_." As he expected, her anger was once again being replaced, this time by growing distress. He felt Sarah ache at it, an ache that mirrored his own. Still, he continued. "There is more going on today than just that between you and Bill. This World is now on the brink of becoming involved with the Mortal World to a greater extent than we have been in an age. There are those among our kind who do not want it, have never wanted it, will never want it. Yet it is highly possible that our assistance and involvement will be necessary in the battle they face. Any hint of secrecy, of an attempt at hiding information could put everything at risk. Any inclination that I held some sort of emotional bias could be used as reasoning against this cause. Your honest, visceral reaction was precisely what was needed to convince everyone that my disinterest was genuine."

"Damn you and your logic," she whispered it, the anguish that crept into her voice was even worse for Jareth to bear. He found that, much like dealing with Sarah, he preferred to be the target of her anger. "Then why him? Why could you not just get someone else?"

"He was the one the Goblins chose, long before even I knew of the connection. He was the one the Goblins sent. He was the one who made the journey, who had all the information. It could be no one else."

"Yes, but surely..." she faltered, "surely..." Her eyes searched her father's for answers she knew he could not give.

"Katrin," Sarah knew Jareth's argument had stalled and, knowing Katrin, would not get to the point that needed to be made. When she had walked into the room before her children, Oberon had whispered, _If she knows, she must admit to it. Then we can act._ Sarah struggled briefly with the idea that one of her own children could in this situation before remembering her own experience and her own age at the time. "Dearest, why such despair? The Goblins themselves attested to his abilities, he would not have been chosen had he lacked skill enough to handle himself. And you know your father would have prepared him as well as possible. He often has a way with telling you what you need to know without telling you anything at all." She heard his mental snort at that but refused to crack a smile. Instead, she got up, moved around the table, and put a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Try not to worry so-"

Katrin turned her head to look at her mother. "But what if something happens to him? Because of all this? Because of... me?"

Jareth took the cue. "And what if it does? Why should it matter?" The words were hard. His voice was low. And he did not know what he hoped her answer would be.

"_Wha_- Because I love him!" she snapped, as though stating the obvious. As soon as she said it, Katrin's eyes grew wide and she took a step back, facing her father once more as dawning hit. She felt as though a bucket of ice water had been thrown on her and, suddenly awake, was seeing the world fresh. "Oh my- I do. I love him."

With her admission, an unexpected calm settled over the room. Jareth mentally reigned his magic in, hard. Now was not the time to leave the Labyrinth unfettered. As he did so, he pushed away from the table and finally reached out to Katrin, running both hands down the side of her face to cup her chin. "I know," he said, gently. Her eyes were full of new emotions as she looked up at him, and he watched as the wonder mingled with then became overpowered by uncertainty and fear.

The heels of her hands flew to her forehead. "What am I going to do?" With that, she gave a great sigh and dropped her hands to her side, bending her head and falling forward until the top of her head landed on Jareth's chest.

He chuckled and stroked her hair, rather bemused. Sarah met his eyes and grinned, shaking her head. She came over and pulled Katrin over to the table. She sat down, somewhat dazed, and put her head down on her folded arms, muttering.

Oberon turned to Titania. "Go," he said simply, quietly. She nodded, rose, and left the room through the door that led to the hallway. He surveyed the room. In a pose that almost mirrored his son's, Jareth had moved to lean against the doors to the Hall. For all appearances, he was unmoved by the conversation that had just taken place. Oberon knew different, knew that it was habit that kept the facade in place when those outside his family were present, and knew now was not quite the time to address what lay beneath. "Very well-"

Katrin looked up, abruptly. "He was here for that! Oh, man... I did it again..." She threw her hands up in the air and planted her forehead on the table. "Ow."

"Outside voice," Christopher quipped from where he leaned against the wall.

"Shut up," was the only reply.

Oberon sighed, though his amusement was clear. "Is there anything this family could possibly become involved with that does not play out as dramatically as possible?"

There was a groan from Katrin. "I am _so_ mortified."

"Again, outside voice." Christopher then ducked as something, it was unclear what exactly, came flying at his head, hitting the wall behind him at the last moment.

When Jareth closed his eyes and shook his head at that, somewhat pained, Sarah threw herself back in her chair, laughing. Oberon could not stop himself from chuckling as well. The joy she brought, not only to Jareth's life but to the entire Kingdom, had far surpassed what he and Titania had expected. And though Sarah's Mortal origins led to some personality quirks in their children that had heretofore been unseen in the Fae World, he was grateful for all she added.

"Well, then," he tried again. "I believe the subject at hand must be tended to first. Jareth, We have heard all there is to tell. Questions have been asked and answers have been given. Now We must ask of you, Goblin King, what course of action do you request?"

Jareth watched as Katrin angled her head so she could see him. He met her eyes and cocked his head. "What do you think I should say, Katrin?"

She sighed heavily, sitting back and sliding down in the chair until her head rested on the top of the backrest. "Much as it would simplify things to just go in there guns blazing, er, as it were," she shrugged, "no aid was actually asked for at this point. It really sounds like we might just be in the way if we try to help, or at the very worst reveal ourselves and the power held here in the Underground to those who would try to take advantage of it. I suppose the logical solution is to do what we do best and wait and watch." She sighed and looked her mother in the eye. "I hate waiting."

Sarah grinned. "I suppose you can blame me for that."

"Nah, I blame Dad."

Jareth snorted. "That would be because you are still trying to be angry. Chris, your thoughts?"

"Yeah, I have to agree with that. Though you know, without directly saying it, Bill admitted that there is a core group in the Magical Realm who are devoted to fighting this Voldemort person. Perhaps a... representative needs to be sent to speak with them. Or at least, a designated few of them. We can be kept appraised of the situation and have time to be made ready for action should action be required."

"There you have it. And fairly well said, I might add."

Oberon looked at him, thoughtfully. "Why do you not say so yourself? Why ask your children, who are still unrecognized by the Court as having any authority on the matter?"

"Even should I care a whit what they think or recognize, which I do not, the Court is not here. Besides, it affects them as much as it does me. And both must know the process. Why wait until necessity demands it?"

"True. And what of your lady? Sarah, it might not be the Realm you hail from, but it is still the World of your heritage. And it sounds as though everyone there is potentially in danger. Why does he not ask your opinion?"

Jareth grinned wide as she replied, "Jareth already knows that as long as Bill stays for breakfast, I have little problem with this course of action for the present."

"Oh, _Mother._" There was another _thunk_ as Katrin's head hit the table once more."Honestly."

* * *

Bill was standing by the window, looking at nothing, finally allowing himself to process what had happened hours earlier. It had been the last thing he had ever expected and he replayed every word, every glance. He had come to respect the King of the Goblins and genuinely believed there were reasons deliberate for the deception. _Not that anyone lied to you, you know. It was more... an omission._ That thought took away some of the sting. And, at the end of it all, he mostly felt bad for Katrin. He had only previously met two of the entire Fae Court, not including Katrin, while she had connections with everyone. He could only imagine what was going on in her mind. As for the fact that she was a Fae, it really did not bother him any though he supposed it might complicate some things. _And you thought bringing a Muggle home to Mum was going to be a challenge_, he told himself. _Hm. And Dad will be disappointed._ That thought made him chuckle.

He heard the door open and close behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Queen Titania standing by the table, flipping through his book. He turned around and, when she looked up at him, bowed low. "Your Majesty."

She gestured he should rise, seating herself in the chair Christopher had occupied earlier. "Wizard. Art thou finding thyself... comfortable, here in Our World?"

She had fallen into the formal speech that had been used by the Court during the Gala. It was something he had not gotten the hang of it while listening to so he did not bother to attempt to adopt it. "What I have seen of it, yes, thank you."

"Wondrous. Please, be seated. Thou hast certainly stood enough in Our presence today." As he did so, she looked him over, openly. Whatever she expected his mood to be when she walked in, it was not the contentment he displayed. As she pondered this, she was suddenly overcome with impatience. It surprised her, but she decided to see what getting to the point would get her. "Well, enough with the formality. Tell me," she leaned toward him, "just how did you meet Our favorite Princess?" Her tone exuded serenity, curiosity veiled so thinly he could only assume it was just for show.

Bill could not prevent his eyebrow from rising every so slightly at the question. That she asked it, he expected. That it came so abruptly, he was surprised. "She was playing music at a festival I visited while on vacation and dropped a pouch. I returned it to her."

"Ah, yes. The festivals." By her tone, Bill wondered if she disapproved. "Not entirely. Katrin is, after all," she paused, looking up briefly, as though she hoped to find the right words written across the ceiling. "Singular. Special."

He chuckled, even as her response to the unasked question answered one of his that, in other circumstances, would have made him uncomfortable. That her reading his mind did not bother him was yet another surprise. "I would have to agree with you on that."

"Yes." She smiled with approval at his answer. "Though her particular brand of unique is not entirely what I meant."

"I imagine not."

"All of them are. You see, children are somewhat rare among the Fae. That the King and Queen of the Goblins have had six is quite remarkable. And unlike other children of a Fae and a Mortal pairing, theirs exhibit no signs of being purely Mortal, or that of a changeling child. Jareth and Sarah's union has been most complete having transformed her into... something other than what she was. I have always supposed it is a testament to their love, his magic, and the magic of this entire world that their children are as Fae as if pure blood. But by all rights it should not be the case."

He did not flinch when she so casually mentioned Katrin's mother being Mortal, and he consciously tucked away the word 'changeling' to find out more about it later. "As I understand the term, I cannot say I have ever put much weight behind being a 'pure blood', Your Majesty."

He was not rising to her bait and her esteem of him improved even more. But it was getting her no closer to the answer she sought. "You do not care what her background is?"

"It is not that I do not care. Perhaps to say I do not _mind _her heritage is more accurate. But truthfully, the knowledge simply bears no weight in regards to how I feel. It did not matter before today, it does not matter now. It changes nothing."

_Finally, we get to it._ "And what, pray tell, is it that has not changed?"

He felt as though her eyes bore into his very soul, so intently was she looking at him, that she would know if he were lying. _Not that I intend to. But will she know my mind regardless of what I say?_

She sighed. "Your mind is... more closed to me than other Mortals. I easily hear the thoughts you direct even vaguely in my direction, especially when expressly formulated. But to probe further would take... effort."

He smiled. "In that case, and I mean you no disrespect, Your Majesty, but I will not answer your question when I have yet to discuss any this with Katrin."

She raised an eyebrow, delicately. "It is my right to ask. She is one of my people, after all. Her well-being is my concern."

"That it is your right to ask I cannot argue. But it would not be right for me to respond." _I owe her that, after what she went through today._

"Interesting. You understand that you were a target as well?" He nodded. "That this is, in many ways, worse for you and your situation than it is for her?" He nodded again. "Yet still you put her first." She tapped a finger to her lips, contemplative.

He said nothing, continuing to meet her gaze. If she decided to read his mind, so be it. He had nothing to hide, if nothing to say. She regarded him for several minutes before standing. As he did the same, she stepped toward him.

"Though you conceal it on the surface, everything about you says you wear your heart on your sleeve. Even your non-answer is an answer. I would rather you say it aloud, however. It would make things simpler at the moment."

He bowed his head. "I apologize for not being obliging."

"I do not suppose that you anger easily enough for me to trick you into an outburst?"

He laughed at that. "You have not met many red heads, have you?"

Her eyebrow went up again. "None like you."

"Well, I daresay if you push the right buttons, I am sure my temper will show itself." He shrugged. "To what end, I cannot guarantee."

"Hm." She regarded him again before, at long last, sighing with some resignation. She removed one of her long gloves and touched his temple. The contact had not lasted more than a few seconds before she gasped, pulling her hand away as though it burned. She stopped herself from taking a step back, seeing in his eyes concern and confusion. _That was... not what I was looking for... _"If you stay this course, Wizard, there will be great joy ahead for you both. But there is also a great sorrow. I cannot see what it is, but I do know the cause lies with you."

Bill closed his eyes, bowing his head for a long moment. He took several deep breaths and she waited, the patience born of millennia of practice returning as suddenly as it left. Finally, he raised his eyes to meet her gaze once more. His hinted at sadness, backed with stubborn determination, and words he could not yet say written across them. "It is an age filled with sorrow in my World, Your Majesty. In these times, we Mortals have a tendency to find happiness and treasure it for the end could always be around near. I will not leave her unless she asks it. And even then, I do not know if I could."

She took a deep breath and nodded. _It is enough. _"So be it." Titania gently clasped his shoulders and kissed his forehead.

Bill felt a blanket of magic surrounding him unlike anything he had ever felt. He closed his eyes, reveling in it, opening them only when he felt it fade. When he did so, he found he was alone in the room once more.

* * *

Without knocking, Christopher entered the small antechamber. He closed the door behind him and leaned against him. Bill stood at the window once again, hands clasped behind his back, staring off into the distance. "Hey."

Bill did not turn around. "I have a sister, too, you know."

"Sorry?"

"She is only fourteen and the youngest of us all. When she was away at school for her first year, the ghost of the boy who would eventually become the Dark Wizard possessed her. She was eleven at the time."

Christopher fell into the nearest chair. "Man..."

"None of the family found out about it until after it was over. She talked to me about some of it that summer when they visited me in Egypt, about the things that her body was used to do. I cannot even begin to imagine how she eventually dealt with it. But she seemed to think my being a Curse Breaker would give her some insight. That's what she told me, anyway."

"How did it end?"

"Harry Potter saved her. He defeated a Basilisk. He was twelve." Christopher did not know what to say to that and they were silent for a minute. "It's funny, she's had a crush on him since the day she met him. Couldn't speak to him for years. I think she is attempting to move on for now, in as much someone that young needs to, and after this summer they've become decent enough friends. Shortly before he left, Percy once told me that he was glad she finally lost interest, that he hoped she saw that he would never be 'suitable' because 'danger follows him wherever he goes'. But I think everyone knows they'll get together some day." He chuckled. "Our mother certainly hopes so." His tone sobered once more. "Well, assuming any of us survive this. Harry especially. Percy is at least right in that Harry is a walking target with a great destiny."

"The Fae believe that when two people are meant for each other, nothing can keep them apart." When he started to speak, he had been thinking of his parents. But as the words left his mouth, he thought about the scene he had just witnessed in the room down the hall and he realized he was speaking of his own sister and the Wizard that stood before him. "You know, Bill, I- that is, she-" He stopped, abruptly, not really knowing what he was trying to say.

Bill turned around, meeting Christopher's eyes, unwavering. "I will never knowingly put her in danger. I will never wittingly cause her pain. I have no idea what the future holds, but as long as she will have me I will never willingly let her go."

Christopher ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I figured as much. And for what it's worth, I'm pretty much okay with that. Not that my opinion is the one you're looking for. But I admit, I liked you in spite of myself during that quest of yours. So... yeah. Keep in mind, I reserve the right to take you out."

Bill chuckled. "Got it."

He stood up. "Anyway, Mother sent me to take you to your room for the evening. Father and Their Majesties are meeting with some members of the Court to discuss options and make sure everyone is satisfied with the information they have. If they need anything further from you, they will meet with you in the morning after breakfast." He smiled, thinking about that. His mother was fairly easy going on most things, but the sheer force with which she insisted upon that last requirement when the High King appeared to be thinking of requiring Bill's presence before then had briefly left Christopher wondering if his family would still be in favor after this.

Bill gathered up his things and dumped it all unceremoniously in his satchel. He came to the door and stood beside Christopher, casting him a sideways look. "Out of curiosity, when did you know?"

"I figured it out during that one night when you were talking to me about it. You know, when I was in owl form."

"Ah of course. Well, that'll teach me to talk to animals that I know are smarter than they are attempting to appear."

_Christopher chuckled and led the way out the door._


	56. Fifty Five: Promises

_Author's Note, May 23, 2011: For more details on the whole story of Jareth and Sarah (I hint at it below, which is why I mention it), I refer you, dear readers, to Falling, the story I started to answer questions of my own about their past as it relates to Katrin. It has a life of its own now, but they take place in the same written universe._

**Chapter Fifty-Five: Promises**

When Titania returned to the other room, she found a different atmosphere than expected. Father and son were now side by side, remarkable in their similarity, Jareth commenting on the scene before him at a volume only Christopher could hear. He, in turn, appeared to be struggling to not laugh outright. Katrin's cheeks held the remnants of a fading blush, presumably from the embarrassment she had so recently endured. For her part, she seemed to be conflicted as to how, precisely, she should be reacting, if the dubious expression with which she regarded her mother held any indication.

Her own husband and Jareth's wife stood toe to toe, Sarah's arms crossed defiantly even as Oberon emphasized whatever statement he had just made with a firm gesture. It was not a particularly unfamiliar scene. Since their first meeting, in private Sarah rarely treated Oberon with the deference and subservience afforded to him by the Fae. She voiced her opinion readily, often without request, and stood her ground when she felt strongly. Not even Jareth, who had his own unique relationship with the High King and Queen, could have gotten away with some of the things Sarah had said. And every so often, Sarah would lay down the law and Oberon would capitulate just to please her, regardless of what he may have previously intended.

It still flabbergasted him that, every time it had happened, it caught him off guard. And that amused Titania to no end.

Before she could think any more on the subject, Sarah spoke. "Chris, take Bill to the Guest Suites for the night. Let him know breakfast at eight. And it will take as long as it takes."

"Should I tell him that last part?"

Jareth reached out and pushed his son's head in the direction of the door. "Just go."

He did so, throwing a wicked grin at Katrin as he walked by her. She returned it with a warning glare. Then, bowing to Titania as he passed her, Christopher left the room.

Oberon's eyes narrowed. "Sarah, this is a matter of some delicacy and you cannot keep the Court waiting thus."

"Yes, it _is_ a matter of some delicacy and that is precisely _why_ I will keep the Court waiting as long as they must."

"And what about the many lives that could be affected by this delay?"

She snorted indelicately. "Call me naïve if you must but I care only for the two lives that are being affected here, now. You know, I know, he knows, we _all _know that while events are building in the Mortal World nothing occurs at this moment. I also believe that everyone knows that no action is going to be taken on our part in any case, certainly not any time soon. So a few more hours will make no difference."

He opened his mouth to respond, but Titania beat him to it. "I agree with the Queen of the Goblins, though perhaps for different reasons. There is another task that must be accomplished."

Oberon looked at her with interest. "Are you certain?"

"From what we know of the signs, and that is somewhat better this time around, it appears so. In spite of his being exasperatingly inscrutable."

A poignant silence fell over the room during which everyone had turned to look at Katrin. Their expressions varied, but expectation lay behind each. "What?" she finally asked, suspicious.

"I think," Sarah crossed over to her and took her daughter's hand, "we should go for a walk, you and I."

Katrin stood. "Okay..."

* * *

They sat in the Garden upon a small stone bench, lilacs blooming around them. Though acutely out of season, they were a favorite among several members of the household and so year round, here they were.

It had been silent the entire way there, and silent for several minutes more as they settled as comfortably as possible, both still in their formal garb. "Ask it," Sarah began.

"So... What was all that back there, exactly?" Katrin gestured at the Castle.

"Do you remember the story about how your father and I came to be together, as even few Fae couples have?"

"Yeah..."

"Consider yourself having gotten off easy."

"Are you telling me- I mean, we haven't even- I mean, he's never-" Katrin was completely taken aback, then looked at her mother, horrified. "What did Titania _say_ to him?" Then indignant. "And how it anyone else's business?"

"A fair question I have yet to find an answer for."

Katrin remembered the perspective of the person she was talking to. "Is it all right that I am deeply offended at not being allowed to pursue this at our own pace, make own discoveries?"

Sarah laughed. "I hereby grant you permission and defy anyone to contradict it."

Katrin put her hands behind her and leaned back, looking at the bees flitting from blossom to blossom. "So... now what happens?"

"You must go to him. He needs to be told, given a chance to decide. For all this talk of 'destiny', the choice must still be made. And while you can choose to follow blindly and have it turn out just fine, as evidenced by everything that surrounds you here, an informed decision is probably best."

"But what do I say? How much do I tell him?"

Sarah shrugged. "That, I cannot say. Only trust in it, Katrin. Do not disregard what Oberon and Titania see, what your father probably sees, and what I see - even without the aid of magic. Trust it; the words will find themselves."

* * *

The tall, glass doors at the end of the long hallway opened up onto a small balcony that overlooked the Labyrinth. Bill leaned against the ornate stone railing, his book in hand. Though he held it open, he was not reading it, lost again in thought as he took in the scenery. He had not yet changed out of his Dress Robes, though he had take off the outer robe and draped along the railing beside him.

The unmistakable whisper of silk brought him out of his reverie. He turned to look over his shoulder and his throat caught at the vision found there. Katrin stood in the doorway, one hand on the frame. The sun's quickly departing rays lit upon her perfectly, casting an ethereal glow about her. He watched as she gnawed her lower lip under his gaze and he found her uncertainty endearing, reassuring him that she was, indeed, quite real.

He turned around and, elbows propped on the railing behind him, leaned back. "You are stunning."

She smiled and came over, standing next to him. "Thank you. You look rather delicious yourself."

He nodded, considering. "Not quite the look I was going for, but I suppose I'll take it."

She leaned against the railing, looking out over the Labyrinth. "It certainly looks more comfortable than anything we ever wear when the Court gets together. This," she looked down at herself, "well, I've had worse. But even so, it is fairly uncomfortable and rather inconvenient to get around in."

"Then why didn't you change out of it? Aren't the formal proceedings over for the day?"

"Well, because... because..." she paused, then sighed heavily in defeat. "Oh who am I kidding. Because I'm a _girl_."

"Ah. I see." When she looked at him doubtfully, he grinned. "I went to a co-ed boarding school, remember? We had our share of formal events now and then."

"Just don't tell Chris. I'd never live it down that I admitted it straight out."

"I wouldn't dream of it. Although, and I hate to be the one to say it but, I think he knows." She smacked him on the arm, smiling. The wind blew then, gently, and he reached out to tuck a dislodged strand of hair behind her ear. "So, how are you?"

His concern, voiced so earnestly yet so simply, threw her off guard. "How am _I_? In a fair state of panic, actually. And... angry. Frustrated." She sighed. "It shouldn't have happened this way."

"How _was_ it supposed to happen?"

"I don't know. But this wasn't it." She looked at him, sideways. "But I am sorry for it."

He shrugged. "I try to roll with the punches."

"That's it?" Her disbelief was evident. "You're not... bothered? By... _any_ of it?"

"Well, I admit it is a little much to take in all at once. But really, in my estimation, it simplifies things."

"_What_?"

"No, really. I have spent the last several weeks, no actually the last couple of months wondering how, exactly, to explain to you that magic does in fact exist. Most Muggles – that's what we call non-Magical folk - don't react very well when they find out. Many Muggle families with potential Wizards and Witches end up growing apart from each other as the years go on." He turned his whole body to face her, leaning on just one elbow and pointing upward with his free hand. "Now, _I _would have broken the news much more gently. And less... publicly, perhaps." He grinned at her. "But here we are, it's out there in the open. No awkward explanations. No more concern that you'll go running off back to America, screaming the whole way. Or worse, thinking I'm crazy. So the way I see it, I got off rather easy in the end."

"Well, I don't plan on running off screaming." She licked her lips, uncertain once more. "But you might."

"I highly doubt that. But why would you think so?"

"See this Labyrinth?" He nodded. "It was created with a purpose. And not just to keep people out. Once it was used to test Mortals, to try them and quite often, to break them. When my father became King, he managed to ease the magic here away from that singular goal. Until one day, nearly forty years ago..."

* * *

"... We used to visit our Grandparents and Uncle Toby now and then when Chris and I were little, but that slowed down over the years and stopped completely when Justin was born. They keep in touch by letter and are under the assumption that we live far overseas, and Father has offered to 'age' the two of them appropriately if she wants. But I think it just became too hard for my mother to see them age in truth. Then when Grandfather died..." She sighed, heavily. "They named Lewis after him; he's six now. Anyway, fast forward to today and, well, here we all are."

By the time Katrin rounded out her retelling, the sun had long since set. A Goblin had come out at one point to place large crystal globes with candles floating inside them on either side of the doors. Others lanterns of this sort appeared around the Castle, visible from where they stood. Abnormally large fireflies flitted about, adding to the atmosphere.

The temperature had dropped and the wind continued to blow, albeit gently, and Katrin shivered slightly. Bill could see goosebumps on her shoulders and pulled his outer robe over, offering it to her. "I'd suggest we go inside, but for some reason that seems highly improper." She had avoided looking at him through most of her story, and her voice was often wistful and sad. He was relieved to hear her laugh at his comment.

"Fair enough." She smiled up at him. "What is this made of, anyway?"

"Refined Dragon Skin, whatever that means."

"No way!" When he nodded, she looked more closely at the fabric. "We don't even have Dragons Underground anymore. Who would have thought they still exist?"

He watched her fascination before bringing the subject back around. "Earlier, the High Queen mentioned your mother being Mortal and hinted at her situation being remarkable, but I had no idea. And she also used the term 'changeling'?"

"A changeling is a child of a Fae and Human pairing that exhibits some sensitivity of some kind to magic and has a slightly longer life span than a normal Human, but is still Mortal."

"But you and your siblings are not?"

"No. Apparently we're 'special'," she rolled her eyes. "I couldn't care less about it."

"I couldn't either."

She took a sharp breath and looked at him sideways again. "Oh."

They looked at each other for a long time. "Before I took the desk job at Gringotts, I was employed as a Curse Breaker."

"The Goblins that came mentioned that. What does it mean?"

"Simply put, I would travel the world, hunting down treasure and, if it was cursed, break the spell and bring it back to the bank."

"Sounds adventurous."

"It really was." He grinned. "And I got pretty good at solving puzzles, figuring out missing pieces, putting two and two together, that sort of thing."

"That makes sense."

"So, considering your story and some of the things the High Queen mentioned, I would surmise that you suggesting that you and I are..." he stopped, not able to come up with an appropriate term.

She sighed; he did not need to finish the sentence. "Yeah. So they tell me, anyway."

"Well, as much as it is irksome to be told by someone else what my destiny holds, we have our share of prophecies and seers in my World. But I suppose it makes it easier to know that I already knew I'd fallen in love with you."

She looked at him, astonishment at the way he just threw it out there quickly giving way to delight. "Yes, I suppose that would make it easier. But, Bill," her countenance turned serious, questioning and uncertain once more. "Do you truly understand what this means? What my loving you in return means? Because I do. I do love you." He placed a hand over hers and gave it a gentle squeeze and she plowed on. "Fae courtships can take centuries, but we don't have that kind of time, you and I. And you can use magic but you do not feel the pull the way we do. My father was apart from my mother for a mere nine years and in many ways he became obsessed, though he knew not why. And it is likely had it been much longer he would have been driven mad, or worse."

"I sincerely hope you are not suggesting I not see you for nine years."

She giggled. "No, but if you... if _we_ stay this course, there will come a time when you will likely have to stay Underground. I hadn't considered that I would have to one day ask this of you. Certainly not now, already. It just never entered my mind. I don't even know how to possibly ask." She broke eye contact, looking out over the Labyrinth once more.

"Just ask."

She sighed. "I have seen what my mother has had to sacrifice, the suffering it caused her. How do I condemn you to the same fate? Everything you know will eventually fade. Your friends, your family, even buildings you walked through once will eventually crumble. But you will remain."

"As will you."

"Yes, but I was born to this."

He shrugged, pragmatic. "If you and I truly are meant for each other, as it seems some believe, it could be said that I was as well."

He could see she was trying not to smile. "Seriously-"

"I am being serious."

"Then would you stay, if it was needed? Our lives as one?" She was quiet, continuing to avoid his gaze, but her voice was in earnest.

Bill took a deep breath. "Katrin, understand that I do not know what the future holds. I cannot in good conscience abandon the cause I have sworn to fight for. Too much is at stake and too many lives are on the line. I was just a kid when this happened last, but I remember the fear. I cannot promise you tomorrow when I... I don't even know if tomorrow will come. It would not be right; it would not be fair."

"I understand."

Bill pushed himself off the railing and turned Katrin around to face him. He ran his hands along the sides of her face until they rested on her neck, his thumbs caressing her jawline. "I cannot promise you tomorrow, Katrin," he whispered, bringing his mouth close to hers. "But I swear, on my life, you will have every today."


	57. Fifty Six: Good Morning

**Chapter Fifty-Six: Good Morning**

As always when he was busy during the night, Sarah slept in the armchair in the Nursery. Curled beneath a fuzzy blanket, he could see only the top of her head. He stood by the fireplace, watching her, for well over half an hour until she began to stir.

Sarah felt his presence even before she was aware she was awake. But she was far too comfortable to move. She tugged at the blanket with one finger until she was able to see her husband. "How did it go?"

He rolled his eyes. "How do you think."

"That well, then?"

"I do not know why we even bother to have these ridiculous meetings and discussions. No one wants to reach any conclusion, they would rather simply hear themselves speak. Finally, when the appearance of a general consensus looms on the horizon, Gestral opens his mouth and it all starts over again."

"This is a surprise? Can you not, I don't know, uninvite him? Tell him the meeting is somewhere else and only send a messenger to find him after everything is over with the apology along the lines of: 'Did you not get the memo the location changed'?"

Jareth chuckled. "If only."

"What happens now?"

"As always, the Council will continue to go back and forth until Oberon's patience wears thin and he makes a ruling."

"And how long will that be this time?"

"With any luck, no longer than a couple of weeks."

"Good grief. Council, shmouncil. I never thought I'd say it, but you people need to reevaluate how you handle your monarchical structure." Jareth chuckled again as Sarah yawned. "What time is it?"

"Nearly seven."

"Ugh."

"I would suggest you sleep for a few more hours, but someone gave implicit instructions that we are to break our fast at eight o'clock, and I dare not tempt her ire."

"Mm. True. Is everyone else up?" She stretched, wiggling her toes in the direction of the fireplace.

"Not really. The boys are still in their rooms, Justin the only one fully ready for the day. Lewis is up but playing by himself, waiting for someone to help him get ready. And Katrin and Bill are out on the balcony."

"Still? Good thing it did not rain last night."

"Yes, well I thought that would not be wise."

Sarah laughed outright. "This coming from you!" She laughed even harder at his affronted expression as she got out of the chair. "I'll get them moving. You... stay out of trouble."

He watched her leave the room, still laughing, and smiled as the door closed. "Really," he whispered to the sleeping Michael. "What a thing to say."

* * *

Sarah pulled a shirt over Lewis' head. "Where is Kati? I want to show her what I made yesterday!"

"She is on the balcony off the Guest Rooms with Bill. Foot."

Lewis hopped on one foot as he held out the other to receive one shoe. "Oh. Who is Bill?"

"Katrin's Wizard."

"Oh. Does he know Papa's Wizard?"

"They're the same one."

"Papa gave Kati his Wizard?"

"I think he was her Wizard first, actually. We just did not realize it. Other foot."

"Oh. Can I have one, too?"

"And what would you do with your very own Wizard?"

"Make him play with me all day!"

"Well, perhaps Katrin will lend you hers now and again, just for that purpose. But you will have to ask nicely; Wizards are people, too."

"Just like Ludo." He nodded sincerely, in a gesture that clearly was an imitation of his father's.

Sarah kept her expression neutral so as not to hurt his feelings. "Yes, exactly. There, now you are ready for the day."

"Mother, did I just hear you condone a comparison of Katrin's boyfriend to Ludo?" Christopher was standing in the doorway, leaning against it in another imitation of Jareth, though she suspected it was unconsciously done. She raised an eyebrow in his direction as Lewis turned on him.

"The Wizard is Kati's _boyfriend_?" Lewis sounded disappointed. "Aw, she'll _never_ let me play with him."

Sarah grabbed him in a great, bear hug. Kissing him on his cheek, she told him. "How about this: Why don't you go wake them up and you can see for yourself. Chris will go with you." Her tone on that last sentence brooked no argument.

He did not appear to notice. "Woah, woah, woah. Hang on a second here. They're- what- _what_?"

"Apparently they fell asleep on the balcony outside the Guest Suites. Keep an eye on your brother. And Christopher," she gave him a Look, flicking her gaze to Lewis briefly, "I suggest you set a good example."

"Sometimes you take all the fun out of being an older brother."

"I'm your mother; that's my job."

"Chris, Chris, Chris, Chris, Chris, come _on_!" Lewis had a rolled up piece of paper in one hand and was yanking on Christopher with the other. "What if they wake up without us and go away? I want to show Kati my project!"

Christopher sighed and looked down, "I'm not going to get a word in edgewise, am I?"

Lewis stopped pulling and looked up at him. "I don't know what that means. Let's go!"

As they walked down the hallway, Sarah could hear Lewis had already begun a new monologue on a completely different train of thought, and she chuckled to herself.

* * *

"Alright, Lewis, shh. They might still be sleeping."

"Okay," Lewis' whisper was not that quiet, but it was enough to satisfy Christopher. When he started to tiptoe hugely down the hallway, it was all Christopher could do to not laugh outright.

They reached the glass doors and peered through them. Their sister and the Wizard indeed appeared to be sleeping outside on the bench in the corner of the balcony. Bill was sitting up, leaning against the railing, one arm bent at the elbow to support his head. The other arm was wrapped protectively around Katrin. She was curled up in what looked like his outer robe, her head buried in his neck.

"That doesn't look very comfortable."

_Of course not, _Christopher thought. _That's why they're still asleep._ As soon as he thought that, he saw Bill's lips move. Whatever he said made Katrin visibly chuckle. _Or not._ He opened the door and, cracking a grin, sang, "Katrin and Bill, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-"

"But they're sleeping... And not in a tree..." Lewis was looking at him like he had grown a second head.

"Really?" Christopher looked down at his brother, his tone flat. "You just don't get the concept of torturing your sister, do you?"

Lewis considered this. "But I like her."

"Ha ha," Katrin singsonged, "I win. Come here, honey." She had sat up and Lewis ran over and climbed in her lap. He then unrolled his paper and proceeded to show her his masterpiece.

Bill surveyed it over her shoulder for a moment, pulling one leg up and resting an elbow on his knee, before looking up at Christopher.

"Hey," Christopher nodded. It dawned on him that he should have found all this at least slightly awkward, but he could not muster anything close to that. As he looked at the pair, he became aware of a gentle hum of magic had settled around them. He had seen it before, and the prime examples that came to mind were Titania and Oberon and his own parents. _I guess that's that, then. Good thing I genuinely like him; simplifies things I guess._

"Morning." Bill had been about to say something else, but he never got the chance.

"Hey!" Lewis suddenly remembered Bill was there. "Are you Kati's Wizard?"

"Well," Bill deliberately considered the question, "yes, I suppose I am."

"Oh. Mama said if I ask nice you would play with me."

Bill grinned. "I could probably manage that."

"But not right now," Katrin giggled, squeezing her brother. "Breakfast first."

Lewis sighed heavily. "I knew you wouldn't share with me."

Stifling another giggle, she looked at Christopher."What time is it, anyway?"

"About seven thirty."

"Oh." Katrin lifted Lewis off her lap and stood. She turned to Bill and kissed him lightly. "I guess I'll see you at breakfast."

"Right." He crossed his arm over the elbow on his knee and watched them go, remembering Ron and Ginny at that age and wondering what it would have been like to have watched them grow up when he was old enough to appreciate it.

Far down the hallway, he heard Christopher comment, "I can't believe you slept in full regalia." As he heard the doors swing shut behind them, Bill burst out laughing.


	58. Fifty Seven: Breakfast With the Family

_Author's Note, June 23, 2011: After much deliberation, I have decided to age Bill (and, consequently though less importantly, Charlie), by a few years. There is a convincing essay on the subject floating out there on the internets, and the main reasoning behind placing him at age 24 in the timeline of the original story/canon is his relative age to Fleur (the argument being if he were older, it may be too unreasonable a difference for their relationship). Since she is not a factor, and this is, after all, a fanfiction... I hereby deem him older. Consider it all explained. ;)_

**Chapter Fifty-Seven: Breakfast with the Family**

When Jareth and Sarah walked in, they found Bill and Christopher leaning against the wall next to the sideboard. Bill held a teacup and saucer, a wedge of lemon sitting beside the cup, while Christopher, who had always preferred coffee when given the choice, held an excessively large mug of the stuff. The two were laughing about something. They looked up when Jareth and Sarah entered, Bill pushed himself off the wall and nodded his head in deference to the two of them.

"You can probably stop doing that, you know," Christopher commented.

"What, since I don't go down on bended knee every time you enter the room, I'm not supposed to be respectful to your parents?"

Their banter, easy and comfortable, amused Sarah. She crossed the room, kissing Bill on the cheek. "Welcome." Then, in a fluid movement, she handed Michael off to Christopher and took his coffee, setting it down on the sideboard before starting to make herself a plate.

Christopher snorted indignantly. "Oh sure, you greet the new guy warmly and then steal your own son's coffee. That's love for you."

"You should try being more charming," Bill advised. He lifted his cup and was about to take a sip of tea when a large thundering could be heard in the hallway, approaching at quite the speed.

The sound came to a halt just outside the door and, when it opened, in walked a boy who resembled Jareth in all features save his dark hair. He immediately focused on Bill and regarded him with curiosity brimming from serious eyes. Seconds later, another boy skidded to a halt missing the doorway completely. He swung back around the corner into the room and stood behind the first, a smaller version by only a few inches and with the same blonde as his oldest brother. He took in the whole room before spying Bill and staring at him as well. Wondering if they expected him to perform some impressive trick, Bill leaned against the wall again and took a drink. He nearly snorted it when a third boy came through the door, slamming into the first two with such speed as to make up for his lack of size, knocking all three of them to the ground.

"When I said you should make an entrance," Katrin said mildly, appearing behind them, "that wasn't quite what I meant. Bill, this is Justin, Andreas, and of course you already met Lewis."

Christopher shook his head, grinning. As the three boys clambered to their feet, Justin looked vaguely embarrassed. His expression reminded Bill acutely of one Ron may have pulled in a similar situation. He decided to ignore what had just happened. "Hello." Katrin beamed at him and ruffled Lewis' hair, nudging Justin with her elbow as she passed by.

Sarah walked through them, then, pausing to put a reassuring hand on Justin's shoulder. "Help Lewis fix a plate, please."

Katrin arrived where Bill and Christopher were leaning and wedged her way between the two of them, kissing Bill on the cheek then smacking her brother on the arm.

"Hey! What gives?" The outburst made Michael giggle. He looked at his baby brother sternly. "This is no laughing matter. All the women in this house are out to get me. Whose side are you on?"

"_All_ the women?" Katrin looked at him dubiously.

"Mother stole my coffee."

"Ah. A heavy crime, indeed."

Sarah arrived at the table where Jareth waited, pulling out her chair. He whispered something in her ear as she sat down, prompting her to elbow him gently in the ribs. He smirked at her as he crossed the room, taking Michael from Christopher as he passed by. "Food. Sit. Eat."

Katrin looked at Bill. "Shall we?"

"After you."

Christopher rolled his eyes. "Oh, brother," he muttered. His comment was rewarded with another smack on the arm, this one slightly more audible than the last. "_What?_"

Jareth cast a look at Sarah across the room. She chuckled in response, shaking her head. As everyone made their way to the table and began to eat, the room was filled with happy chatter, mostly driven by Lewis who was determined to give everyone a play-by-play of his activities from the previous day. His commentary was interrupted now and again by additions from Andreas.

When he finally wound down, distracted by a rather large muffin that suddenly appeared on his plate, Sarah turned to Bill. "Kati mentioned you have a large family as well."

"Yes, ma'am."

Sarah met Katrin's eyes, clearly delighted. "_Real_-ly."

Katrin's own eyes danced. "I know, right?"

All around the table, more looks were being exchanged. Christopher raised an eyebrow at Bill, who responded with a shrug. Justin and Andreas exchanged confused glances before turning to their father. Jareth leaned back in his chair, Michael held on his lap with one arm. The other elbow rested on an armrest as he propped his head up with one finger. He watched Sarah with obvious amusement, even as she ignored him. His grin widened and he turned toward Justin, giving him a wry non-explanation of: "Women," before tilting his head just out of the way of the grape that came hurtling toward him.

Sarah never once looked away from Bill, not even to ensure truer aim. She asked, "How many siblings do you have?"

"I have five brothers and one sister."

"What do they do?"

"Well, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny just went back to school for the year. Charlie works with Dragons-"

"_Dragons_?" The exclamation came from Lewis, though at this point he had the attention of the room. Even Jareth looked vaguely intrigued. "Are they _real_?"

Bill blinked at that. "Well, yes. Do you not have any here?"

"Not any more," Jareth put in. "That particular Kingdom was destroyed in the last great war, along with all those who were a part of it. Or so it was thought, in any case."

Bill leaned in. "How does that happen? I mean, in the case of the Dragons we have it is true some breeds are more rare than others and that is part of what Charlie does on the preserve with his research. But are they not in a similar situation to the Goblins? Tied to the magic of their origins in some way?"

Jareth shrugged. "Questions worth looking in to. There have been theories before, but no one ever cared enough or noticed anything to imply the need for further study."

"Has this happened before?"

"Well, when-"

"Now hang on," Christopher interrupted his father, who now focused his amused look upon his eldest son. Christopher did not seem to notice, looking intently at Bill. "You actually find this interesting?"

"Theoretical Magic? Absolutely. It's led to a great many magical advancements in the Wizarding community, although to be fair not all of it has been good. And History has a whole other set of useful applications."

As Bill turned back to Jareth, Christopher looked at Katrin and mouthed, "Nerd." She stuck her tongue out at him in response.

Jareth tried again, "Well, as I was saying, when-"

He did not get far. "Oh, honestly," Sarah tsked impatiently. "You two have all the time in the world to talk about science and theory and history and what not. So, Bill. You were saying your brother works with Dragons at a preserve?"

"Oh, yes. They are still found in the wild, and are useful for spells. However, some breeds have been hunted to near extinction. Between that and the handful of people who consider a Dragon to make an excellent pet, only to abandon them when they become too large to handle safely, a large research preserve was built in Romania."

"Of all places, Romania. Of course."

Bill was only marginally surprised she knew of the place. _Will anything really ever surprise me again? So much is possible that had never been before..._ "Well, it is easy to hide them there. Forests and mountains."

"Of course," she repeated. "What about your last brother?"

"Oh," Bill cleared his throat. "He works for the Minister of Magic."

Out of the corner of her eye, Sarah did not miss the knowing look exchanged by her two eldest children. Nor did she miss the way Katrin reached out to Bill without looking at him, resting her hand upon his where it lay on the table. _Later, perhaps_, she thought. "And your parents?"

"My mother is a house-witch, and my father works at the Ministry in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office."

"What's a Muggle?" Once again, Lewis interrupted.

"Oh. A non-Magic using, er, Human."

"Like Mommy."

Bill looked from the little boy to Katrin. She shrugged, and he turned back to Lewis. "I suppose, perhaps. Though something tells me that might not be quite right."

"Hm." He thought about this briefly. "Like Uncle Toby?"

When Bill looked at her again, Katrin answered. "Yes, that is a good example."

"Ok. Will you make me an orange?"

Katrin giggled, and got up. "Sure."

"How old are you and your siblings, Bill?"

Katrin looked sharply over her shoulder from where she stood at the sideboard before casting her eyes dramatically skyward at her mother's latest question. Jareth snorted with unsurprising elegance at this and Bill struggled not to laugh outright. "Fourteen, fifteen, seventeen, seventeen, nineteen, twenty-five, and I'm twenty-seven."

"I'm six!" Lewis announced. "Andreas is eleven. That's almost two of me!" It was math he was clearly proud to know. Katrin set a peeled orange on his plate and kissed him atop the head. "Oh boy."

The door opened and all eyes watched as a Goblin scurried in. He bowed low, almost excessively so, and handed a folded piece of paper to Jareth before scurrying out once more. His eyes flicked across the page as he read the note quickly. Folding it again, he tapped it to his mouth twice. "And so it begins anew." Rolling his eyes, he stood, passing Michael to Justin. "I will return shortly." Looking at Bill, he said, "I apologize I cannot be present for the rest of your," he smirked at Sarah once more, "interrogation."

Sarah's indignant, "What?" received no response. Jareth had already vanished.

* * *

Several hours had passed but the number in the room had dwindled only by two more. Andreas and Lewis had long since left to go play. Justin continued to quietly entertain Michael, though the majority of his attention was on the conversation being had around him.

Sarah had, indeed, continued her line of questioning, though it had narrowed from generalities to more specifics regarding Bill's occupation, those of his family members, and finally his family in general. A handful of stories were told, by Bill, Katrin, and Christopher. It was all lighthearted and amusing.

When the door opened again, the same Goblin servant scurrying in, silence fell rather abruptly. This time, the note was handed to Sarah. "Well. It appears something had been decided. Chris, Bill, Jareth requests your presence." She set the note down on the table after reading it once more. "Kati, you as well."

"_Me_?" Katrin looked surprised. "Why do they need me there? And why not you, for that matter?"

Sarah snorted. "I have better things to do with my time than pander to the Court and Their Majesties know it. As for the first question," she shrugged. "You shall have to go and find out."

Katrin's eyes narrowed. "Does this mean I have to get dressed again?"

"No. Well, Bill," Sarah rose, smiling slightly as Bill stood as well. _The manners on this one..._ "It was a pleasure to finally meet you. I hope you are able to return again soon."

"He's leaving? Already?" It was the first real offering Justin had made that morning, though he sounded genuinely disappointed.

"I'm sure I have meetings and briefings to go to back at the bank." He sighed, then, rolling his eyes. "And endless amounts of paperwork to catch up on."

"You really miss your other job, don't you? All that adventure?" Katrin was looking at him, head tilted.

He shrugged. "Yes, but there is plenty adventure to be had all around at the moment. So it's more that I really cannot stand sitting behind a desk."

"I can't really blame you on that one," Christopher said. Justin nodded in agreement as well.

"Enough stalling, you three. Off to the Study with you." She chuckled as she watched them go. Christopher rolled himself out of the chair and staggered out the door, muttering something about obligations. Bill held the door open for Katrin as she deliberately dragged her feet and cast a look of longing over her shoulder at Justin as she went. She winked at him before finally passing through the doorway.

"Thank you again," Bill said to Sarah. He gave Justin a wave and followed Katrin out.

After the door closed, Sarah leaned against the table where Justin was sitting. "Well?" she asked him as she held out her hands. "What do you think?"

As he lifted his brother so he could crawl into Sarah's arms, Justin thought about it briefly. "Chris likes him. And so does Dad, I think."

"Much against his will, yes."

Justin grinned at that. "So does Lewis, but he likes anyone."

"True. Especially one who can be convinced to play with him. But what about you?"

"I think he's nice. Cool, I guess. And being a Wizard sounds kinda interesting the way he talks about it." He paused to consider again. "His family sounds fun."

"Yes." His tone indicated there was something else. "But?"

"Well, he seemed, I don't know, sad? About one of his brothers?"

_Always insightful. _"It seemed that way. But I think Kati knows about it, whatever it is. So I do not think you need to worry too much."

"Yeah, I guess so." He nodded, but seemed unconvinced.

"Come with me," she stood up, shifting Michael to one side as she smiled at her son. "We can talk more while Micheal takes his nap."


	59. Fifty Eight: Formulating a Plan

**Chapter Fifty-Eight: Formulating a Plan**

The three were walking down the hallway nearing the Study. Upon leaving the Dining Room, Katrin had linked arms with the other two and sang, jovially, "We're off to see the Wizard!"

Christopher had groaned, hanging his head while Bill asked, "What Wizard?"

"You're kidding, right?" Katrin had asked, before immediately adding, "Oh, I guess not."

"You have no idea how lucky you are," Christopher added.

"Hey! That film is an American Classic!"

"It's ridiculous."

"Oh, please. It's a charming story about-"

"Charming? Try creepy. I hate those monkeys. Besides, don't you think the portrayal of Wizards and Witches like that might be just a little bit offensive to Bill?"

She thought about this briefly, before shaking her head dismissively. "It's just a story. Here, I'll sum it up." Christopher sighed heavily as she launched into a retelling.

And so they found themselves arriving at the Study door, still arm-in-arm, as Katrin finished her summary.

There was a moment of silence before Bill said, "I hate to say it, but I think I have to agree with Chris. It does sound a bit ridiculous."

Katrin snorted. "Oh, honestly. It's a _children's_ story, clearly written by someone who had no knowledge of the Magical Realm. It isn't meant to be taken seriously."

"She's going to make you watch it eventually, mark my words. But no matter what she says," Christopher threw in as he knocked on the door, "those monkeys? Creepy."

Their discussion came to an end as the door to the Study opened. The doorway was narrower than the three companions, so Katrin hauled the other two close and dragged them through the opening. She stopped abruptly just inside and giggled as both Christopher and Bill stumbled a bit. Bill grinned at her as Christopher opened his mouth to give her a scathing comment. Their antics were interrupted by a haughty sniff.

As one, they turned to survey the room. Sitting behind his desk, wry amusement thinly veiled behind a smirk, was Jareth. Behind him, equally amused but without the smirk, Oberon leaned on the window sill. In a chair that faced the desk, though the occupant had turned to look upon the new arrivals, sat another Fae.

It was clear to Bill from whom the sniff had emanated, if facial expressions were to be any indication. The man was looking Bill over, superiority dripping from every pore.

Bill took it all in stride. Forewarned by Jareth that such an attitude could be expected, he pretended not to notice. He smiled congenially, resisting the urge to grin outright. Bill recognized the Fae as one of the more opinionated contributors at the Gala. Remembering his previous meetings with the Goblin King, he intended to bow respectfully, first to the High King and Jareth, but then to this unnamed Fae noble though, per instructions, 'not low enough so as to appear submissive.' However, he found himself abruptly stalled from carrying forth any movement at all. Katrin, it appeared, had sensed his intent and objected to it. Curious as to her own intent, he happily obliged and stood his ground, wondering what would happen next.

In truth, Katrin did not particularly object to his nod toward the formality generally required. It was the subject to whom his respect would have been directed to which she objected. Immediately upon sensing Bill was about to bow, she locked her arm against her, stepping closer to him and willing him to not move. She made eye contact with the visitor, standing taller and lifting her chin. She raised an eyebrow even as her eyes narrowed in an expression echoing one favored by her father.

_Interesting reaction, Kati, _Christopher thought. _You could have let go of _my_ arm._ She had not done so, and when she stepped toward Bill she had yanked Christopher several inches toward her. He resisted the urge to yank her the other way, admitting to himself it would be a childish response and serve little purpose in present company. _Just you wait, though. I'll have my vengeance._ At that thought, he caught his father's eye. Christopher cleared his throat. "You summoned us, Father?"

"Lord Gestral, this is Fitzwilliam Weasley."

"Yes. The Mortal."

Jareth rolled his eyes. "I believe you know my children. Sit," he told them.

Bill stepped out of Katrin's grasp and held a chair for Katrin. After she sat, he remained standing at her shoulder. He put an arm along the top of the high backed chair and leaned against it. Katrin's eyes never left Gestral's.

"Amazingly enough," Jareth stated as Christopher pulled up a chair alongside his sister, "the Council has reached a temporary decision. Although Lord Gestral here has some minor concerns." From his tone it was clear precisely how minor Jareth found them.

Gestral opened his mouth, fully intending to begin his questioning, when Oberon spoke. "The opinions on how to proceed are rather varied. Were We to allow it, it is certain the discussion would continue long after your situation has resolved itself. Yet our laws are clear and, at this juncture, there has been no direct attack upon Our World or Our People," he said. "We simply cannot break our own rules and interfere with the course of events regardless of the benefit it may serve Us. The risk is too great."

Bill nodded. "I understand. Although I had hoped I made it clear last night that aid was neither a requested nor expected result of my coming here."

Gestral's eyes narrowed, a strange mix of suspicion and approval lingering around the edges. Once again, he made to speak but was interrupted by the High King.

"Indeed. Yet we are not immune to your plight. Still, there are too many who would argue that human life has little bearing on our own. Yes, yes, Katrin. I know you argue otherwise. However, the fact remains that your affection for the Mortal Realm is considered to be rather," he paused, "unorthodox. Eccentric at best."

"And if I were your parents," put in Gestral, finally managing to get a word in, "I would see that you remain Underground where you belong. This tendency toward living with humans as you do," he sniffed, "it is fairly unnatural-"

"Watch yourself Gestral. My tolerance only extends so far." Jareth's tone could have frozen water. "Besides, we all know your opinions on this particular subject.

"Even so," he rounded on Bill. "How can we be sure you will not reveal the secret of the Fae's existence?"

"Why would I? You do not wish to become involved, at least not at this juncture. To reveal your existence prematurely would do no good, especially if the need never arises. Even if the only ones to be told were people on our side, there is no guarantee that a secret like this would remain so. And if Voldemort discovers your existence and the power all of you guard here, he would seek destroy, if not conquer and control, it as well as everything in the Mortal World."

"Then our hand would be forced. We would have no option but to get involved."

"True. But what guarantee can be made that you would even choose our side? I hope that you would, but," Bill shrugged, leaving his sentence unfinished.

"Hm." Gestral looked at Bill, considering.

During the ensuing silence, Bill felt certain his worth, and that of all the people he represented, was being weighed. Finally, he shrugged again. "In any case, it matters very little what I intend to reveal or not. As I understand it, I am still under that binding spell of the Goblins and therefor unable to say anything about it at all. I have no complaint to remaining so bound, especially if doing so brings reassurance."

"Oh?"

"Since I have no intention of saying anything regardless, it makes little difference to me."

Once more, there was a long silence during which much staring went on between Bill and Gestral.

"Very well," the Gestral finally said. "I cannot say I approve of all this, but I suppose it is what it is and that cannot be changed."

"Indeed." Jareth would later tell Sarah she would have admired his restraint that he did not roll his eyes at that moment.

Gestral sighed. "You do know, Goblin King, that I am not opposed to this simply to oppose _you_. That stance is for others to take. I wish to protect our people as much as you do, in my own way." At Jareth's nod, Gestral rose. "Your Majesty, I am satisfied. And I believe I know enough to appease those who share my concerns and opinions. Unless you need me further?"

Oberon waved one hand. "You may go."

As soon as the door closed behind the Fae noble, Oberon pushed off the windowsill. "We shall take Our leave as well, Jareth. There are other plans to see to." He made eye contact with Bill. "You will do well on your own merit, but I wish you luck with your endeavor." With that, he vanished.

"Hmph."

Christopher turned to look at his sister. In doing so, he was struck by the image she and Bill made. It was almost as if... "You match."

She gave him a dubious look. "What?"

"What?" He had not intended to say anything aloud.

Jareth chuckled. "It is true, but for another time."

"_What_?" Katrin repeated, feeling vaguely bewildered.

"Later. First, the plan." He gestured toward Bill, then to the chair vacated by Gestral. As Bill relaxed into the chair, he began. "However things stand now, Oberon expects to be kept appraised of any further developments. Naturally, a ready contact in the Mortal World would be more convenient than trying to insert one of our own. Not to mention far less complicated. Bill, as a formal representative of the Goblin Bank and, as such, an employee of mine," Jareth ignored Katrin's snort, "you will be that contact."

"I understand. Though I will be limited on what information I can provide on what our side is planning." His grin was ironic. "We have our own sets of rules and spells."

"Of course. It goes without saying, but needs to be said nevertheless, that the easiest way for you to send us information is through a member of the Fae. Naturally, Katrin, that will be you." This time, it was Christopher who snorted. Jareth leveled a black look at his son. "Chris, you will serve as my liaison and emissary to the Goblins at the bank should I need to formally contact Bill, and vice versa. I do not believe they know that Katrin spends as much time as she does Aboveground and I would have it remain so." When Christopher nodded, Jareth turned back to Katrin.

For a time, he simply looked at her, contemplative. Eventually, he cleared his throat. "Katrin, regardless of your 'official capacity' for remaining Aboveground, there is another purpose for you being there at a time of year when you would normally remain at home. The timing of... all this is inconvenient. However, these moments are crucial. You and Bill should not be apart for long stretches of time. While it would be preferred that your courtship take place under the watchful eye of the Labyrinth -"

Katrin raised an eyebrow. "The kingdom but not you?"

"He'd never admit it," Christopher shook his head. "Mother would throttle him."

"True."

Jareth continued, mentally acknowledging Bill's ability to contain his grin at the siblings' banter. "The Labyrinth, if you travel too frequently within the Magical Realm, you could be discovered. Plus, it is unsafe for him to be whisked back and forth -"

"He means like he did with Mother," Christopher commented.

Jareth threw his hands up and rolled his eyes. "Truly? Are we not going to get through this?"

Katrin chuckled. "Dad, I get it. I stay Aboveground and collect intelligence. Bill and I will date while he saves the world. Mother keeps you here so you do not get to spy. But you get to send Chris to spy for you if the whim demands it. What else needs to be said that won't just serve to make everyone uncomfortable, including you?"

He perched his elbows on the desk and pressed his fingertips together. "Oh, very well. But remember, while few of our people will question your remaining Aboveground for any length of time, the rules still apply: while you remain among the Mortals you must live as they do."

She recited dutifully. "No magic unless absolutely necessary and if such is the case the best course of action is to simply return Underground immediately and without hesitation."

"Wait a second," Christopher interjected. "If she is going to be in the Magical Realm, wouldn't it be _more_ strange if she does _not_ use magic?"

Bill answered that question. "No. The few people who know about her believe as I had assumed, that she is a non-magic-using human. If she shows up waving a wand and casting spells that have no base in the reality we know, the secret would be out in record time."

"Oh. Good point."

"Are we all settled and at an understanding?" Jareth waited until the other three nodded. "As His Majesty said, this plan is all based on what we know and what has happened as of now. I believe most of the Court is hoping that your Voldemort fellow will just go away."

Bill rolled his eyes heavenward. "Don't we all."

"But watch will be kept until the end of whatever it is that is going on over there in the Mortal World. You should return as soon as possible in the interest of keeping the Gringotts Goblins from becoming concerned, though insistence has been made that you stay for lunch."

Bill nodded. "Gladly. All that remains to discuss, then, is exactly what should I include – or leave out of – my report to Gringotts?"

"Now as for that..."


	60. Fifty Nine: And Yet More Plans

**Chapter Fifty-Nine: And Yet More Plans**

The next several weeks passed uneventfully. Bill returned to his desk job at Gringotts. Katrin spent the drier days busking along the Thames. As the weather grew steadily colder, she spent more time indoors, wandering museums or practicing in her room at The Mad Hatter. As soon as Bill was free from the bank in the evenings, he would meet up with her and they would pick a bus at random, ride around the city until a restaurant caught their eye, and they stopped for dinner. There were late night wanderings through the city, running down Bridge Street to hear Big Ben sound midnight. They stood on Westminster Bridge watching the lights of the London Eye reflect on the river. On weekends or the rare days when Bill had time off, they would take day trips into the country.

Bill was fascinated by the aspects of the Muggle World that he hand never been privy to, Katrin's way of telling stories and her exuberance for the culture charmed him repeatedly. He wondered why more of it was not taught in Muggle Studies or ever really talked about by enthusiasts in the Wizarding community. As they explored London and other bits of England together, Bill introduced Katrin to the secret involvement the Magical Realm had in the shaping of history. At times, she found his insights so outrageous that she wondered if he was teasing. In response to her incredulity, he would merely laugh and give her a lighthearted wink, then perform some minor feat of magic that would remind her how much could be possible.

It was a Friday in November and they found themselves sharing a milkshake at a little place called Ed's Easy Diner. Katrin had happened upon it one afternoon when she was trying to find a place to wait out a downpour. A cursory look on the internet revealed that it was a small chain with a handful of locations in England, several in London. She knew she had little opportunity to introduce Bill to much American traditions and upon finding this little novelty, complete with juke boxes and onion rings, she had resolved to drag him to one of these. They had gone to see a show that evening and were not ready to call it a night. Ed's was conveniently located and, more important, open late.

"I have to say," Bill said as he watched Katrin eviscerate an onion ring, "I see your point about the preference for bendy straws."

"Mm." Katrin licked breadcrumbs off her fingers. "It really does make a difference, especially when sharing. The weight keeps them balanced in the right direction." She shrugged. "It's a little thing, I suppose, but there it is."

He chuckled. "So. Are you bored with London yet?"

She placed a hand over her heart in mock disbelief. "Nevah!" She took a sip of the milkshake before going after another onion ring. "Why? Are you?"

He shook his head. "Not in the slightest. And when the scenery threatens to fall short, the company more than makes up for things."

She wrinkled her nose at him and smiled. "I'd kiss you but, well, onions."

"I think I would have managed to suffer through somehow. So," he lowered his voice then, flicking his eyes around the room briefly, "if we ran into a Goblin at random, would you be recognized on sight?"

"Um," Katrin blinked several times at the nature of the topic shift. She took quick stock of the room as well. They were the only customers and both waiters had gone into the back. She lowered her voice as well. "If not immediately then shortly thereafter. It's a sort of a... magical resonance, I guess. I believe my father can pull off disguising himself but I haven't the know-how. Not too sure about Chris. Why? You're not scheming or anything, are you?"

"No. Nothing grand anyhow. I thought a venture into my world might be fun. I would love to show it to you, at least a little bit. But there are few places where the potential to run into a Goblin does not exist."

"Oh. Well, I'll ask when I talk to him next. Which actually reminds me. At home, because of my mother's heritage and all, we celebrate Thanksgiving. I have been given permission to invite you. And by 'given permission', I mean your presence is demanded. I was also told to tell you if you decline, Lewis will be most disappointed."

"How can I refuse, then?" He paused, returning her grin briefly before puzzlement appeared in his eyes. "What is Thanksgiving?"

Katrin's brief dumbfounded state was replaced by bemused curiosity. "I wonder do you not know because you are English? Or is it more because you are a Wizard?"

He shrugged. "I honestly couldn't say."

"Huh. Well, anyway..."

Katrin launched into a dramatic telling of the pilgrims and the challenges they faced upon their arrival in Plymouth. She told the story as traditionally told, adding in some of the less frequently touched upon historical tidbits. By the end of the telling, the two waiters and one of the cooks had wandered over and were hanging on every word.

Someone then asked a question and Katrin's response triggered gales of laughter from her captive audience. Bill did not hear a word of the exchange. He marveled at the way her demeanor changed when she found she had an audience. This had happened a couple of times in their adventures together and it never failed to amaze him. He adored the way her eyes glinted mischievously when she knew something outrageous was about to cross her lips and the analytical way she regarded the reactions received.

Eventually, the others wandered off and Bill was left alone with Katrin once more. She cast him a sheepish look. "Sorry. I got carried away again."

"I don't mind." He shrugged. "I suppose if I had issues sharing you with others I would have some serious hurdles to jump in the future."

"What do you mean?"

"As a member of the High Court, I imagine you will sometimes be at the beck and call of duty."

"Mmm. Regardless of convenience or preference."

"So it would seem." He laughed at her disgruntled expression, reaching across the table to stroke the back of her hand with one finger. "At least in this instance it brings you amusement."

"Hmph. I admit it is rather satisfying performing for people who are willing to enjoy it."

"As opposed to?"

"'Performing' for the Court, for politics."

"Think of it as diplomacy instead of politics. It's less grim that way."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. But I do admit to getting caught up in the analysis of people's reactions. I find it fascinating, not knowing what I will get or whether my predictions and intent comes across. It's more fun than for any productive reason, really." She paused before finishing, thoughtfully, "rather self-indulging."

"True. But if it finesses your ability to measure someone's character, to gauge the truth of a reaction in time of crisis, you could chalk it up to necessary practice."

Katrin pondered this through another onion ring. "I guess so. But still-"

Bill cut her off with a grin. "You know, you don't need to explain. I truly do not mind. I actually find it rather endearing." He watched her cheeks gain a slightly pink hue. There was a long silence during which they simply looked at each other. When the door made a noise announcing the arrival of other customers, Bill brought the subject back around. "So, when does this Thanksgiving thing take place?"

"This coming Thursday. Short notice, I know. But we all sort of forgot it was coming and would require a bit more planning than normal. I'm not usually Aboveground at this time of year. Apparently it was Lewis who brought it up."

"Oh?"

It was Katrin's turn to grin. "Yup. He is currently fascinated by calendars and decorating for holidays and, well, any occasion at all, really. So he saw Thanksgiving is coming and hunted down the decorations for them, which have all been hand-made over the years. And he found the hand-print turkeys we have all made to hang on the windows. And he did so in the dining room. Then at breakfast yesterday, Justin noticed they are all evenly spaced except for one rather conspicuous gap. And Lewis apparently said, 'That's where Bill's will go!' And I can only imagine the conversation that took place after that."

Bill nodded, slowly. "Well, I do not know what a hand-print turkey is, but I do have younger siblings so I can imagine the conversation as well." He had some of the milkshake as well but stopped mid-reach for an onion ring. "Wait, did you say Thursday?"

"Yup."

"Oh. That could be problematic."

Katrin shook her head. "Nope. My mother said she's already talked to Dad and to make him issue a request for some reason or other that would, oh, I don't really know. I sort of lost track of it all. I told her that you are far too principled to lie about working when you actually are taking a personal day. Then she said he said the same thing, but as long as she doesn't mind actual work taking place on what is supposed to be a family-only holiday occasion, he can let Oberon know you will be around since the two of them want to talk to you about something."

"Something?"

"Yup. I cut her off when she started to go into it. It sounded more complicated than I really wanted to relay third-hand."

He chuckled. "Sounds like it is all arranged then."

"Yeah. But you still have to agree to it." She rolled her eyes. "Ah, the illusion of choice."

"In this instance, I am more than willing to go along with the plan. And this is in no small part due to the thoroughness with which said plan has been conceived."

"Get used to it, sweet cheeks. My mother is formidable when determined and she might be thinking of you as an unsuspecting target."

"Well then it is a good thing I have insider information."

Katrin raised an eyebrow. "You sound rather confident that I am on your side on this one."

He put his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his hand. "You sound rather confident that you are my informant."

"Touche, my friend." She saluted him with an onion ring. "Touche."

* * *

"It appears you have made quite the impression, Mr. Weasley." Frank looked at Bill over his glasses. "Do you not feel at all inconvenienced that you are once again being summoned with such short notice?"

Bill shrugged. "I do what needs to be done, especially if it helps with the cause."

"Indeed. And what is your opinion on the matter? Do you think they will involve themselves with the situation here?"

Bill leaned back in the chair he occupied and considered. He was in Frank's office having just received the official summons to attend another meeting with the King of the Goblins. The door was shut, the room was sound, but he knew not to make assumptions. It had been decided that he should avoid letting the Gringotts Goblins know what plans were afoot Underground, but since at this time there were no plans at all it made evasion a little easier. "I think they are biding their time, weighing all the options. As for what they will do," he shrugged again, "honestly, who can say?"

Frank sighed. "True, true. Well, thankfully you are only requested for the day. You should return to this office tomorrow morning shortly after opening and you will be brought back here in the morning on Friday. It is easier to cover for your strange comings and goings if we keep it in normal business hours, and I for one am more comfortable knowing the door opens in a less public place than the meeting rooms."

"Yes, sir."

"And I will say this much as well, Mr. Weasley. I am very impressed that your work here has not suffered in the slightest. If I did not know better, I would never have thought you missed a single day."

"Thank you, sir. That was my intent."

"Very good, Mr. Weasley, very good."

* * *

"Again? Bill, didn't you take a desk job so you would actually be in place here in London?"

Bill was at the kitchen table in Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Having finished a casual dinner with Sirius and Remus, they were enjoying a bottle of Macallan Sirius had found at the back of a cupboard. Katrin had returned Underground the night before for reasons relating to baking far too many pies and casseroles than would be necessary. He did not really understand what it meant, but was certain all would be revealed tomorrow.

"Well he cannot very well tell them no and be singled out for being uncooperative, Padfoot."

Sirius snorted. "I just don't see why you don't go back to being a Curse-Breaker, for all that they are sending you haring after this and that."

"I'm not haring after anything. It is just a corporate meeting out of town, is only one day, and is not that big of a deal."

Remus nudged Sirius. "He only says that because his girlfriend is out of town as well for a few days."

"Ah that's right, I forgot about that. So rather than mope about here he is going to immerse himself in work, is that it?"

"I, for one, like how he blows all of us off unless there is Order business to deal with until she's away, and suddenly we're the top of his social calendar."

Bill rolled his eyes. "Shut it, you two."

Sirius laughed, a genuine sound that made Remus smile. "I would take offense, but your ears are turning red."

"Seriously though," Remus leaned in, "is any of this giving you information that will help the Order?"

Bill rolled his glass around, watching the Scotch swirl. He sighed, shaking his head before meeting Remus' eyes. "Honestly, I can't say at this point. And I'd rather have a firm answer than throw around speculation that may not even come to anything." He leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on the one next to him. "With any luck, maybe I'll have some questions answered after tomorrow, but," he shrugged, "who can say when dealing with Goblins, right?"

Remus leaned back as well. "True. True."

"Eh. Enough about the Order. Let's get back to this girl of yours. It's been weeks since I've gotten an update. You, Moony?"

"Not a thing."

"Right then. So last I heard was before your long trip and you had decided to tell her about being a Wizard."

"Ah, that's right. So did you?"

Bill smiled. _Not exactly..._ "It did come up, yes."

"And?"

Sirius grinned. "Was it in a well-populated restaurant like I suggested?"

Bill laughed. "Not a restaurant, no. But she really took the information that I am a Wizard in stride." _After all, my being a Wizard was the least of her concerns at that moment... "_Nothing worth remarking on, in any case."

"Have you brought her to any Wizarding areas yet? Diagon Alley?" asked Remus.

"No. We've been busy exploring Muggle London with a couple of day trips into the country. It's something she has always wanted to do, and it really is fascinating how much Muggles have achieved without magic."

"Wait a second, isn't she from America and on a two week vacation? What is she still doing here?"

"But she isn't here, she's out of town."

Sirius cast an askance glance at his old friend. "Moony, I swear. He said for a few days. All the way back there just for a few days?"

"There's some holiday called Thanksgiving that is very important to her family. Something about Turkey and pie and casseroles and pilgrims," said Bill.

"Curious. They have strange customs over there. So she's going home for a few days then coming back? Where is she staying while she's here?"

"At a hotel in town."

"Isn't that expensive?"

"That's what I said, but she's been busking during most days and says she manages to cover most expenses."

"Busking?"

"Don't you remember what I told you?" put in Remus. "She's a musician. Plays on sidewalks for tips."

"Ah that's right." Sirius pondered this briefly. "Probably very eccentric, then. Must be why she took the news so well."

Bill nodded. "Yeah." _Or not. _"Actually, I'd like your opinions on something. I'm thinking of seeing if she wants to move into my flat."

Sirius sat bolt upright. "Living together already? Oh no. I refuse to give my opinion. I will not be held responsible when Molly finds out." He glared at Remus who started howling with laughter. "You would be wise to follow suit, my friend. She can be formidable."

"Hm. Must be a mother thing," Bill commented. "But no, not actually living together yet. I figure my rent is actually cheaper than a hotel on a weekly basis, so I'd keep the lease in my name but move back here."

"Did you hear that?" Sirius leaned over to Remus. "He said 'yet'."

Remus nodded. "It's true."

"That means he's thought about it."

"Also true."

Bill shook his head with a chortle. "All right, all right. Long term plans are being thought about."

"Hah!" Remus sounded triumphant.

Bill shook his head again, still laughing. "But seriously, what do you think?"

Sirius exchanged a glance with Remus. "She's definitely coming back then?"

Bill's grin held a secret. "Yes."

"Have you talked long term with her?" Remus asked.

Again, the secretive grin. "Yes."

"And do you think she would be receptive to the idea?"

"Yes."

Sirius peered at Bill. "It sounds like you've already decided."

Bill shrugged and nodded. "Well, yes."

Again, Sirius and Remus exchanged glances. "Well," said Remus, "what do you need our opinions for?"

Bill rubbed the back of his head. "Actually, Sirius was right on target. What is my mother going to say?"

They all leaned back in their chairs as one, sighed and said, "Hmm."


	61. Sixty: Avoiding the Kitchens

**Chapter Sixty: Avoiding the Kitchens, Avoiding the Truth**

When Bill arrived in Frank's office, the Goblin was nowhere to be seen. Christopher, however, was seated there, his back to the door, his feet propped up on the desk. He threw his head back when he heard the door open and grinned. "Hey."

"All right, Chris?" Bill grinned back.

He nodded. "Enjoying the peace and quiet actually."

"Been waiting long?"

"Not exactly." Christopher stood and rolled his head around. "I showed up early on purpose. I implied to the Goblin that was here that there is some measure of urgency today, which is only half true. Truth is I'm avoiding the women folk."

Bill looked at him. "Why?"

"If you stand around looking not busy for too long around this time of year, you get conscripted. Justin spent three hours yesterday peeling potatoes."

"Sounds like a load of potatoes."

Christopher shook his head. "Nah, he's just slow. Come on, let's go. His Majesty is not expected until after supper, but Dad wants to chat before hand."

Bill nodded, hefting his satchel higher on his shoulder. "Sure."

"I suspect it is a self-serving charity move," he paused as he opened the door to the Underground. "He doesn't want to end up in the Kitchens either."

* * *

Bill and Christopher sat with Jareth in his Study. Looking around, Bill surmised Lewis had done some decorating in here as well. Cut-out paper leaves were attached to nearly every surface, but only those lower than two feet high. He couldn't wait to see the transformation in the Dining Room and wondered when he would make the turkey Katrin spoke of.

"Any updates?" Jareth asked.

Bill looked up and shook his head. "Not at this point, really."

Jareth nodded. "I expected as much."

"Awesome," Christopher put in. "Who's up for a game of Scrabble?"

Jareth shrugged. "We have about four hours."

"Awesome," Christopher repeated and he went over to a cupboard to pull out a well-used box that rattled when he shook it.

Bill watched, amused, as Christopher put the box on the desk and started taking out pieces. "That's it, then?"

"I told you," Christopher did not look up from counting tiles as he put them in a bag. "This is a self-serving charity move in the form of a necessary meeting to not get called into the Kitchens."

"Ah."

Jareth chuckled. "Actually, at this point we would be more in the way than useful. The turkey should be in the oven so all that is left to attend to is the table setting and the finishing touches."

Christopher caught Bill's still dubious look. "Just wait until you get to experience the week-long preparation period for holiday feasts. You'll see."

"Right." There was a brief explanation of rules and they started pulling tiles. As Bill placed his tiles on his tray, he rearranged the letters haphazardly. Glancing down, he switched an "E" with a "T" and realized he spelled out "secret". He stared at the word, lost in thought.

Christopher exchanged glances with his father. "Hey, Bill, it's your go." He waited a moment before trying again. "Bill?"

There was another pause. "Mr. Weasley?" At Jareth's inquiry, Bill looked up, blinking. "Is something the matter?"

Bill leaned back, choosing his words with care. "Perhaps our meeting was adjourned too quickly. I have a conundrum. As you know, I belong to a group of people who are dedicated to preventing Voldemort from rising to power once more." Father and son exchanged glances again, but remained silent. "I think I can tell you without breaking any secrets or confidences that one of my jobs is to use my position at Gringotts to find out who the Goblins will side with, if anyone."

"Naturally," Jareth said.

"Well, with all the odd meetings I've been having that are hard to relate to a desk job, I've been getting questions as to whether the Goblins are any closer to a decision or if there is dissent or different factions or," he shrugged, "who knows what else."

Jareth leaned back once more. "I see your point."

"Look, I don't want you to think I have a problem keeping the existence of the Fae a secret. If I have to, I can flat out refuse to comment. But," he shrugged, "eventually it could jeopardize my usefulness to the cause. If they cannot trust me to do what needs to be done," he shrugged again. "It is an unexpected situation."

"So how do you offer them more assurance without revealing what you know?" Christopher asked.

"It is more than that, though. I know you," here Bill gestured widely indicating a greater number than those in the room, "are currently taking the path of neutrality. Is it safe to say your subjects are expected to follow suit? With some magical, Fae method of ensuring they do so?"

Jareth nodded. "That is correct."

"If I were to simplify things and say I _happened_ to meet the King of the Goblins at these meetings, never mentioning what you actually are, and that he said the Goblins will take no stand on either side because he decreed it, I still always end up with the same argument: history has shown that even the subjects of a king could have a dissenting opinion that leads to an act of rebellion."

"So, how do we convince Their Majesties and the rest of the Council that you should be more directly involved?" Christopher looked at his father.

"Assuming," Bill corrected, "direct involvement is even the answer."

"What if we had more information on what is going on?"

Bill shook his head. "Another situation in which I cannot tell you more than I already have. Nothing has changed in the way of public information at this point. As for what more we know, how we know it, and what we are doing about it, well," he shook his head again. "I cannot tell you that without breaking a whole other set of confidences with potential of putting everything we've been working on at risk. Not that I think you would do anything," he pointed at Jareth and Christopher. "But it goes back to the concept of why the fewer people who know about the Fae the better off you will be."

"Right." Christopher sighed. "It's like a really slow moving Russian spy movie."

Jareth gave his son a sharp look. "What?"

"Oh, come on, Pop. You know the kind. Lots of double agents not really making any headway on divulging information and not enough explosions to keep the plot moving forward."

Bill looked at him, askance. "I, for one, could do without any explosions."

"Ok, ok," Christopher folded his hands behind his head. "It's a bad analogy that only sort of fits. But I swear it made sense in my head before I said anything."

"Perhaps you are actually on to something, though, Chris." Jareth's expression hinted at plotting. "Perhaps what we need to do is infiltrate. Bill, what if you were to give out just enough information about Goblin Royalty to a select handful of people that they have an understanding of how the social structure works but without implying anything directly related to the Fae?"

Bill nodded, slowly. "It may shake up a bit about what we think we know about Goblins, but I don't think anyone truly believes that what we know is not seventy-five percent theory and conjecture."

"Right. So you feed them this idea, get them used to the concept and test the waters. Then we may be in a better position to open up the knowledge of the Fae to more people or, at the very least, re-evaluate our stance. I do not know that we ever want it to become truly common knowledge, but perhaps legends need to be revived."

"But then we're back to convincing Them this is a good move," Christopher put in.

"I believe convincing Their Majesties will be the easy part. Convincing the Council will take more time of course. But I think the key may end up being revealing more of the truth to one person at first. Someone in a position of power and influence within the organization leading your cause, Bill. Someone high on the ladder of power, trust, and planning who you can trust implicitly."

Bill did not even hesitate. "My first thought would be Albus Dumbledore."


	62. Sixty One: Happy Thanksgiving

_Author's Note: March 15, 2012: Happy Ides. Another short one, I know. But it just did not fit with the previous chapter and I am working on keeping things on point rather than fill with useless fluff that does not really move things along. Especially since I _really_ want to move things along! I have ideas! I have plans! I have not enough time to write!_

_Thanks for reading, everyone. I'm glad there are people out there who enjoy this silliness. And I apologize for any spelling errors. I tend to do a quick edit, then upload, then reread as I write the next chapter and find everything I missed (including the odd, unfinished sentences that missed the first go around). Which means I go back and re-upload with corrections and those of you who read it the first time around have to deal with dangling participles and odd verb usage. Sorry about that!_

**Chapter Sixty-One: A Happy Thanksgiving Includes Pie**

Thanksgiving proved to be a fascinating and delightful event. In addition to Katrin's parents and siblings, they were joined by a handful of Goblins who had no family with which to spend the day off given to the Castle staff. During his previous visits, Bill had seen enough of the creatures to be charmed and amused by their barely contained hyperactivity. Today, the atmosphere was casual and relaxed and they seemed to be letting loose. Had he made mention of it, Sarah would have informed him that this behavior was nothing to remark on, the memories of her first encounters still vivid in her mind. Still, their antics were highly entertaining.

Also at the table, Bill was intrigued to find a dwarf and a talking fox, the latter of whom was apparently a knight. He rode in on a dog that seemed to be rather nervous, shivering at loud noises and sudden movements, which were in abundance this afternoon. Bill felt a little sorry for it as it lay by the fireplace regarding the room dubiously.

Upon understanding this was Bill's first Thanksgiving, Lewis launched into a retelling of the story. Andreas filled in missing facts when his brother got stuck, but that only happened a few times. Generally, Lewis just plowed ahead full steam.

"I have to say," Bill told Katrin when it was all over, "Lewis' version of this story is far more intriguing than yours." He met her dubious expression with a solemn one. "For example, not once did you ever mention the fight between the bear and the guard turkey."

She looked down her nose at him. "I was giving you a historically accurate account," she said, superiority dripping from every tone. "It was not the time to embellish."

Christopher snorted. "Oh, like that has ever stopped you before."

She pointed her fork at her brother. "I have the power to withhold pie from you. I'd watch yourself."

After dinner, Jareth magically cleared the leavings just before dessert was served. Sarah labelled it as sheer laziness, while Katrin called it showing off. He had responded with a pointedly arched eyebrow and asked if they wanted to take charge of doing the dishes. Katrin reminded him of her power over the pie. Several hours later, Katrin had not made good on either threat. The remains of pie, cake, and cookies were all the evidence left that a feast had taken place at all.

The party had split off into smaller groups. The Goblins had all disappeared to do whatever it is Goblins do in their free moments. Christopher engaged Justin and Andreas in their traditional post-Thanksgiving poker game for which the prize was the last piece of pumpkin pie. In the interest of giving Sarah a chance to visit with her friends of old, Jareth took Michael and Lewis up to the Nursery.

Bill wandered over to inspect the turkeys hanging in the window. Each one had the name of whoever's hand it belonged to and their age at the time of tracing. When Katrin came up behind him, snaking an arm around his waist, he grabbed her other hand and placed atop a small turkey with her name and 'age 6' written in a feather. "So little," he murmured, tracing a circle on the back of her hand with his thumb. After she leaned up and kissed his chin, Bill turned and sat on the window seat, pulling her down beside him with an arm around her shoulder.

One of the Dining Room doors was flung open wide and Lewis came running in. He had a large book in his arms and, after casting a quick look around the room, made a bee-line for Bill. He stopped in front of them, looking back and forth between two.

"Um, Kati?" he finally asked.

"Yes?"

"Can I borrow your Wizard?"

She smiled. "What for?"

"To read to me. Papa said if I sit quiet, I can stay down here with everybody."

Her grin widened. 'Sit quiet' was code for 'don't pester your mother'. "I'm fine with it, but you'll have to ask Bill nicely."

Lewis turned to Bill. "Will you please read to me?"

"Sure." Lewis barely waited for the assent before climbing into Bill's lap. He half leaned against Katrin, who put her head on Bill's shoulder. He then held the book out for Bill to take. Bill did so, looking at the cover. "_The Complete Fairy Tales of Hans Christian Andersen_," he read aloud.

Katrin chuckled. "Oh, this should be fun."

As the three settled in together, to enjoy the stories, they were unaware they were being watched.

"She seems quite content, doesn't she My Lady?" After all this time, Sir Didymus still rarely called Sarah by name, even in private.

"Yes," she agreed. Sarah smiled fondly at the trio. As Bill read, every now and then he would roll his eyes at some aspect of the story that he clearly found to be preposterous. Katrin picked up on the nuance and her giggle, though quiet, could be heard throughout the room. Lewis simply appeared enthralled by the telling and, if Sarah was any judge of his behavior, was likely on his way to drowsing off to sleep.

"He seems to be a good sort of person, though I aint never heard tell of a Mortal using magic like he does," put in Hoggle.

"No, nor I," added Didymus.

"Really?"

"Yeah," Hoggle shrugged. "But the separation event took place long before my time, though, so there ain't no reason I would have."

"Oh." Sarah processed this for a minute. "Well, in any case, I would have to agree with you. He is of a good sort. And chooses to pursue noble endeavors."

Hoggle rolled his eyes as Didymus' ears perked up. "Verily? And what of chivalry, My Lady? Does he exhibit that as well?"

Sarah avoided making eye contact with the dwarf. "Oh, yes."

"Well! Then perhaps I should invite him to join my noble order and become a knight of this fair realm!"

Hoggle leaned on his elbows. "Ain't that Jareth's prerogative?"

Didymus' ears and mustache drooped ever so slightly. "Oh. You speak the truth." He took a breath then perked up again. "Then I shall make a point to speak to His Majesty as soon as it is convenient."

"Oh, now that's a _great_ idea."

"Thank you, old friend." Didymus pet Hoggle's hand, clearly misinterpreting the sarcasm in his last statement.

"Perhaps it would be best if I broached the subject on your behalf," offered Sarah.

Oh, My Lady! You truly are generous!" Immediately appeased, Didymus changed the subject. "So, has there been any arrangements for a date?"

"A date?" asked Hoggle.

"Indeed! For their pending nuptials!"

Hoggle put his head in his hands, immediately regretting having asked the question. Sarah laughed and shook her head. "No, not yet."

"Whyever not?" He sounded truly dismayed.

Hoggle's shoulders shook and Sarah nudged him under the table. "Well," she said, "you know there is a certain amount of tradition and custom in the steps leading to that event when dealing with the Fae." She held up a hand to forestall any further discussion. "Don't worry so much. I believe things head in that direction at the pace they should."

"If you are certain, My Lady." Didymus sighed. "Well, if there is anything I can do, be sure to let me know for I am ever in your service."

"Thank you," Sarah smiled. "Now, tell me what is going on with Ludo. Is he terribly ill? Should I visit him, or arrange for him to be brought to the Castle?"

"Nah," Hoggle shook his head, thankful for the change in subject that allowed him to compose himself. "It's jest a cold. But he sneezed once yesterday and it nearly caused an avalanche."

"He said he did not wish to distress you in the slightest, but he would rather come by when he is feeling better. I think," Didymus leaned forward, conspiratorially, "he did not want to give a poor impression to the Princess' suitor. Young Lewis spoke of him so animatedly I believe my brother feared he would disappoint."

"Oh," whispered Sarah back. "Be sure to tell him he need not have worried. Bill is very kind and understanding."

"Thank you, My Lady. And, if it is not too much to ask, would it be possible for me to take him a slice of pie? He does enjoy it so."

Sarah nodded. "Of course. I actually made sure an entire one was set aside just for him when I found out he would not make it today!"

Hoggle harrumphed. "Next time, _I'm_ gettin' a cold for Thanksgiving. A whole pie!"


	63. Sixty Two: The Next Step

_Edited: 15 Mar. 2013_

**Chapter Sixty-Two: The Next Step**

"What, so they want him to do tricks for them like some kind of performing monkey?" Katrin's indignation was evident. She was sitting in her father's Study with her parents, Christoph, Bill, Oberon, and Titania. Thanksgiving dinner long since over, the group had gathered for the official meeting over cookies and port.

Having called for this meeting to discuss the necessity for a formal gathering of the Council for other reasons, Bill's conundrum of earlier that day reinforced Oberon's opinion that it was time. He had informed the room that many of the High Court were curious as to precisely how magic manifested itself when used by those of the Magical Realm. Oberon suggested that, were Bill willing to oblige the curiosity of those on the Council, those in attendance might be more receptive to solving Bill's problem.

"I don't mind," Bill told her. "Certainly not if it helps."

Katrin snorted. "It's absurd."

"I am sure it would not be so bad," Sarah tried to reassure her daughter.

"Oh? And how can it be guaranteed that after they make him put on one little show, they will not at another time demand it again?" She adopted a snooty tone. "Oh, let's invite the Wizard to our next party at the Assembly Room and have him dance for our amusement!"

"Assembly Room?" It was Christoph's turn to snort. "Are we in one of your Regency novels?"

"Yes, well you get the point." She waved a hand dismissively. "What I want to know is how can it be guaranteed -"

"Because I have a specific demonstration in mind." Oberon met Jareth's eyes as he spoke, and Jareth nodded in response.

Sarah watched the exchange and said, simply, "Oh?"

It was Titania who responded. "Do you remember the uproar among the Fae when you were bound to Jareth without following the protocol and ritual that should have been followed?"

"Yes, of course."

"Well, let us just say that there are those who would be much less... forgiving should such a thing happen again, particularly when involving members of this family."

"Stuff and nonsense, I say. Not that anyone listens to me."

Her appraisal of the matter made Oberon smile. "I would not say that. However, in this instance the first ritual tests could very well satisfy the members of the Council in terms of a demonstration of Bill's abilities."

"But is that necessary so soon?"

"Actually, I believe it might be," Jareth answered. "It has come to my attention that the Labyrinth is just as determined as before to do things in its own way and in its own time. Were any Fae to look at them, even as they sit right there, it would quickly become evident how swiftly things are progressing."

All eyes turned to the couple, seated near each other on one side of the room. "I don't even really know what I'm looking at and I see it," Christoph put in.

Jareth looked back at Sarah. "In an effort to at least give the appearance of compliance, it would be best they do not wait."

Katrin's eyes narrowed. "So how about we don't talk about us as though we're not here?"

Christoph smirked, "What, and not annoy you?"

She glared at her brother before looking at Bill for reinforcement. She found him leaned back in his chair, chin resting upon one hand, looking entirely too bemused by the conversation for her comfort. "How is it possible you are taking this so calmly?"

Bill shrugged. "After that initial hurdle, everything else seems rather superfluous. And as it appears there is no way around it, why bother getting all worked up? It isn't as though I have issue with the end result."

Katrin blinked at him several times. "Very... pragmatic of you."

"Look," Bill sat up and spoke to the room. "Am I correct to infer there is no way around these rituals without causing, at the very least, some sort of inter-Kingdom discord?"

Jareth exchanged glances with Oberon and Titania before responding, "At the very least."

"Ridiculous waste of time," Sarah muttered.

"You always comment on how the Fae have plenty of time to waste," Christoph told her.

"You're not too old to be grounded, you know," she replied.

A grin threatening at the corner of his mouth, Bill turned to Katrin once more. "I am already neck deep in the beginnings of one war. I have no desire to be responsible for another."

At that, her expression softened. "Well, in that case." Her eyes narrowed again and she pointed accusingly, first at her father then at Oberon. "But I will not stand for any monkey business, no matter what he says." She pointed at each of them once more then, almost as an afterthought, shook her finger at Christoph as well.

"What?!" he said defensively. "I had nothing to do with this."

"Just in case," she retorted.

* * *

The next day, after Bill had been sent back Aboveground, Katrin and Sarah sat in the kitchens having some cocoa.

"So, Bill and I talked last night and I've decided I'm going to move into his place in London."

Sarah grinned. "_Really_."

Katrin threw a napkin across the table. "Oh, Mother, honestly. Not like that. He'll be going back to living at his friend's spare room in the Wizarding part of London. Now that the pretense of him being a muggle," she chuckled a bit at the word, "is unnecessary, he may as well be where it is convenient to be reached by that bank. But his lease isn't up for a few months."

"And rent on a flat would be cheaper than your hotel."

"Exactly. Since we are still supposed to be together as much as possible, but I'm not supposed to wander aimlessly around the Magical Realm and he cannot come Underground too frequently without arousing suspicion or notice, it just makes sense that I move in.

"When is this happening?"

"Some time this week. The proper enchantments and protections need to be set up to keep it safe from prying Fae." She chose to ignore her mother's indignant snort at that. "Plus, I'm paid through two more Saturdays at the hotel so there is no real rush. The big question I have is whether you think I should give up my apartment back in the States."

"Do ou think you'll be spending much time there in the future?"

"Well, no, probably not any more. Certainly not the immediate future. I wouldn't mind visiting the Aunts one of these days, but they have already decided that I should just move to England permanently and have started making plans to visit."

Sarah laughed. "I'm sure they have."

Katrin tipped her mug back and forth, watching the unmelted remains of a marshmallow bob around her cocoa. "I think I probably will let it go, but I cannot say that I am in a terrible rush. It would take some time to pack everything, unless I let Dad do it. And he's a little busy right now."

"Just a tad."

"Is it wasteful of me to keep two apartments Aboveground?"

"Wasteful? You mean, financially?"

"Well, yeah."

Sarah shrugged. "Probably, but your father is loaded. Chalk it up to him spoiling you."

"Oh he'll love that logic." She paused. "Hm. I might want my furniture though."

"Is Bill taking all of his back then?"

Katrin laughed outright at that. "That is hardly the issue, Momma." She told her mother about Bill's meagre furnishings and their trip to Ikea. "I can only imagine what was going on through his head when we were sitting there getting ready to assemble that bookcase by hand! From everything he has told me, it is quite the norm to just wave your wand and be done with it!"

Sarah chuckled. "Fascinating how these Wizards seem to use more magic with greater ease than you and your siblings. I know it is partially an age thing for the Fae, but still. What magic you can use, you tend to opt for without. Chris is the same way, to some extent."

"I hadn't really thought about it. You and Dad never discouraged us from using magic. And I cannot speak for my darling brother, but I just prefer not to."

"Prefer not to what?" As if on cue, Christoph walked in at the end of Katrin's last statement.

_Oh, the timing._ Sarah shook her head. "Do you deliberately choose to not use magic to accomplish a task when doing it without is possible?"

"Oh. I hadn't really thought about it. Sometimes it is a matter of effort. For example, why should I bother conjuring up a cup of cocoa for myself when I can just tell Kati here to do it for me? And don't skimp on the marshmall - OW!" Katrin had kicked the chair out from under him just as he was sitting down and Christoph ended up on the floor.

"So what you are saying is in your case, it is just sheer laziness." Katrin rolled her eyes and sipped her cocoa.

"Oh, you two. Honestly." Sarah laughed again.


	64. Sixty Three: Moving In, Moving Forward

___**Chapter Sixty-Three: Moving In, Moving Forward**_

"So that's it then?" Katrin hopped up on the kitchen counter and kicked her heels against the cabinet. She and Christoph moved her things into Bill's flat that morning, then she watched as he established the final pieces of Fae protection as required by their father and the High King.

Christoph scratched his head and looked around before siting on the counter next to her. "Yeah, I think so. Pops said he would stop by later to check my work, but I'm pretty sure that's it."

"Cool." She looked around as well. "It looks pretty solid."

"I should hope so. I did a practice run after Thanksgiving on some room in the castle. He took one look at it and just sighed. Then he had me spend two days at your old apartment studying what he did and looking at the nuance."

"Nuance?"

Christoph rolled his eyes. "Apparently I lack finesse."

She put her hand on his shoulder in sympathy. "You shouldn't take that the wrong way or anything. I wager he thinks just about everyone lacks finesse."

"No kidding. But after staring at your walls for two days, I had to admit he has a point."

"And what, like a thousand years' experience on you?"

He snorted. "At least. So any new and exciting tourism stories to tell?"

"Not really. Thirsty?" At his nod, she hopped down from the counter and crossed to the fridge, peering inside. "Lately there has been some big project or other that has been taking all of his time. We've been lucky to have lunch or dinner together, and he seems rather anxious all the time. He was sorry he couldn't help you move my three suitcases in, but he had plans tonight. I told him I thought we could manage it just fine." She waved a beer at him.

"Sure." He caught her easy throw with a grin. "I am so glad Uncle Toby managed to teach you to _not_ throw like a girl all those years ago."

"Whatever." She threw a bottle opener at him.

"So is this project for work?"

"No, that other thing." She closed the fridge and leaned against it, taking a sip from her own bottle.

"What is it?"

"Uh-uh," she shook her head at him. "He can't talk about it so I don't ask."

"That has to be driving you crazy."

"Oh, man! Are you kidding? It is stupid frustrating. But things are complicated enough as it is without my pressing the issue so," she shrugged, "I try to let it be."

"And how's that working out?

"I haven't caused an international incident yet."

"Meh. There's time."

"Gee, thanks."

"Well, since I'm here and you have no plans, want to watch a movie or something?"

Katrin pondered her brother. "Here we are in London with endless options for things to do and you want to sit around at watch a movie?"

He shrugged. "I have simple needs. Besides, what if he gets here when we are out?"

"We'll leave a note."

* * *

Several hours later, the siblings came back to the flat. Sitting on one of the crates, looking for all the world like he was siting on a throne, was their father.

"Oh, hey Dad!" Katrin said brightly.

Jareth raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "And where have you two been?"

"Chris was helping me decide which of the local places would make good 'regular haunts' while I'm living here."

"Indeed."

She looked at him, wide eyed. "What?"

He grinned. "Just tell me you didn't get into any trouble that I will be hearing about later?"

"Me? Never!"

"You on your own is not what concerns me. It is what happens when the two of you are together."

"Oh, phff." She waved dismissively. "Don't be silly." She sat down on the floor next to him and hugged her knees to her chest. "Did you find my note?"

"Of course."

"We're you waiting long?"

"Not particularly."

"Did you go through all my things and find something scandalous?"

He raised his eyebrow again. "No. Should I have?"

"Not unless someone put something there for you to find." She glared at her brother.

"Hey now! I paid for dinner, didn't I?" Christoph picked up the jar next to the fireplace labelled, "Floo" and studied it intently.

"Which usually means you did something that I haven't found out about yet."

"Not every time." He opened the jar and sniffed at it. "I've been meaning to ask, what is this stuff?"

"Floo Powder. It's used to travel through fireplaces."

"No kidding." He put the jar back.

Jareth sighed. As much as I would love to remain and be party to this conversation, I must return Underground."

"Oh hey. So how'd I do?"

He smiled at his son. "Very well, actually."

Katrin grinned. "So did you have to fix anything, or did you just prettify it a little?"

Jareth took one look at the bemused expressions on both his children's faces and rolled his eyes. Standing, he said, "Goodnight, Kati. Are you coming, Chris?"

"Yeah, may as well. See you, sis."

Jareth conjured up two crystals, holding one out to Katrin who took it gingerly. "See you in a week. Contact me if you or Bill have any questions about the ceremony or what will be required."

"Okie dokie."

Jareth sighed deliberately before tossing the second crystal at the doorway and he and Christoph left.

Stretching her legs out, Katrin leaned back and surveyed the empty room. She looked down at the crystal in her hand, lifting it up in front of her face. "I need to buy a fruit bowl so you have somewhere to live."

* * *

Bill wandered into Sirius' kitchen just before dawn, yawning as he rubbed his neck. Kingsley Shacklebolt, Remus, and Sirius were sitting at the table, looking over a stack of papers.

"Morning, mate," said Sirius, not looking up. "Grab a cup."

"Or a chair," offered Kingsley. "You look about ready to fall over."

Bill collapsed in a chair and reached for the pot of tea, giving up half way there. "I didn't think sitting up all night would be quite so exhausting, but there it is."

"You have been working late as well, recently."

"Well, then there's that _other_ thing." Sirius pushed the papers aside, fetching a cup for Bill and pouring him the tea.

"Cheers. And I wish I could blame spending time with Katrin, but no. I think I'm just getting old. Energy is the first thing to go, right?"

"So it's going well, then, eh?" Remus grinned, refilling his own cup.

Bill nodded. "Very well. I was actually hoping Dad would have been here since I won't be going back to the Burrow before the holidays. I need to talk to him about planning a night that he and Mum can come to town for dinner after he's done with work."

"Oh, meeting the parents!" Sirius sighed. "Pity you couldn't just bring her here. She sounds amusing."

"Yes, well that isn't possible. Not right now, anyway."

"Would she not be interested in joining the order?" Kingsley asked, mild concern evident.

Sirius shook his head. "Muggle-born and not a witch."

"Hm. Fascinating."

Bill chuckled. _You don't know the half of it._ "Quite."

"Has Molly come around to the whole Muggle thing yet? She seemed rather against the whole thing a while back."

"She isn't really _against_ it, Padfoot," Remus sighed. "She was more against Bill moving to Muggle London instead of going home with her where she can keep an eye on one of her brood. As it is, she is likely just concerned that Bill is making a target of himself."

Bill sighed as well. "Well, she's going to have to get used to it eventually. Preferably sooner than later. This isn't going away."

"Oh, ho! Should I plan a party? We can put streamers on my mother's portrait."

Bill stared off in space for a minute before grinning. "I am picturing her meeting your mother. She just might hold her own."

Sirius looked at him, askance. "Really? Quick of wit and not afraid to use it, then?"

"Mm hm. I wish she could come here. You'd probably get on."

"Get on?" Remus laughed. "She'd give him a run for his money. Quick, that one, I tell you."

"Even more fascinating." Kingsley leaned back. "Now _I_ want to meet her."

"I'll let her know you all say hello at lunch this afternoon, if I stay awake until then."

Sirius clasped him on the shoulder. "You should go up and try to catch a few before you have to go in to Gringotts. You have, what, an hour? Two?"


	65. Sixty Four: Ceremonially Tied

_Author's Note 7 Apr. 2013: This chapter was particularly difficult. I can visualize these things in my head perfectly. But whenever I try to write it, I get caught up in the details. How much is too much? Am I being perfectly clear? Is my vision so important that I should leave little to the imagination? Am I being too vague so it doesn't make any sense at all? Maybe I should just skip it?! And me without cocoa and marshmallows in which to seek solace! And then I think that maybe I should just step away from writing for a while to clear my head. Then months (and sometimes years) go by... The Gala chapter was like that, as was the Escher room chapter in __Falling__, for those of you that read that. In fact, I almost skipped this ceremony entirely and went to immediately following. But I felt like that would be denying you, dear readers, of something vaguely important. I think I finally managed something that I can be pleased with. Sorry if the wait on this one made anyone as anxious as it did me._

_On another note, I posted a blurb on my profile regarding my use of canon in this fic. I was going to put it down at the end here, but it went on a bit long. So if you're interested, feel free to take a peek. Either way, please enjoy the chapter._

_**Chapter Sixty-Four: Ceremonially Tied**_

As they sat on Katrin's bed in front of a small mirror, Sarah fussed with the garlands in Katrin's hair. "Momma, I think it looks fine."

"Fine isn't perfect."

"Does it need to be perfect?"

Sarah paused. "Well, considering how much weight you and I put behind the opinions of the High Court, probably not. But at the same time, yes, absolutely."

Katrin giggled. "I get the feeling that you are more nervous about this than I am."

Sarah smiled softly at their reflections before wrapping her arms around her daughter and leaning against her head. "Very likely. Everyone seems to be perfectly at ease with what is about to happen. Even you, and you have never even witnessed this ceremony. I have to assume it's a Fae thing. But me," she shrugged. "Your father and I sort of skipped over all these when the Labyrinth bound us together."

"Sort of?" She giggled again. "I don't think there was much 'sort of' involved there."

"You have a point. I just wish I could be more helpful. Motherly guidance, and all that."

Katrin twisted a strand of hair and grew thoughtful. "I do wish, kind of, well, that Bill's family could be here. I've got you two and Chris, and Their Majesties are kind of like family, I guess. But even the rest of the High Court could be seen as more on _my_ side. Bill is all alone."

"But he isn't alone. He has you. Which, really, is the fundamental point of this thing."

"True."

"Does it bother you that you haven't met any of them yet?"

"Sometimes a little. But I know it is more complicated than just swinging by his parents' house after a night at the movies. And then I do the math and, you know, we really haven't even been dating that long." She thought for a moment. "So maybe instead I should be freaking out a little more that we are going through the first steps of the binding already."

"When it is right, it is right."

They looked at each other in the mirror for a long moment, a knock on the door interrupting them. Jareth poked his head in. "Ready?" At their nods, he came in and took Sarah's hand, helping her to her feet. He pulled her close. "We will be going straight to the chamber. You need to go to the waiting room on the left. Chris already took Bill."

"Right-o." Katrin gave him a thumbs up then disappeared in a flash of glitter.

"I think she does that deliberately to annoy me," he said to his wife.

"Daughters," Sarah said. "It is what they live for."

* * *

The fire of pure light light burning in a low, crystal brazier illuminated the pair in a warm circle. The members of the High Court gathered in the chamber remained in shadow, a shadow that swallowed all evidence of their presence from all the senses. It was as though Bill and Katrin were the only two creatures alive, the only two that mattered.

This ceremony was a formal acknowledgement that two Fae had found their true mates, the other half of a soul finding that part it never knew was missing. It began with a long, poetic retelling of the days up to the first pairing, each of the pair reciting half of the tale. It took everything Katrin had in her to not wince at some of the archaic and awkward phrasing of it. Then, a handful of members of the High Court stepped forward to the edge of the light to ask a series of questions, the answers meant to justify the need for such a ceremony.

Then, at the very end, was the test. A magical gesture that could only be completed if the bond was true and it would tie the first of many knots in the strings of their souls. There were some who had entered determined to bind themselves with none of the other signs appearing. The light of that brazier would never glow for them. There were some who had entered but, even in full sight of the one they were meant to be with, were not willing to give over so much of themselves. The light of that brazier would remain as immovable as they. For the fire therein was made up of the purest and truest love, and of the deepest hopes for the future. Its constancy symbolic of the eternity of this world.

Katrin turned toward Bill and met his eyes for the final moments of the ceremony, grinning at some private joke. The corner of his mouth twitched at that and she pressed her lips together to keep from giggling. Taking a few deep breaths, she managed to return to a more somber state. Then, she lightly touched her fingertips to her chest over her heart, and took a final deep breath. After a long moment, she drew her hands slowly away from her body, a stream of light coming away with them. She cupped her hands, forming the stream into a gently pulsing ball.

Those who were bound before this fire added to its brightness. For the fire itself did not affect the binding so much as the binding affected the fire. In the lives of most bound Fae, the end result of this ceremony would be achieved naturally regardless after a certain amount of time spent together. By speeding up the bonding process through magic, the couples were publicly declaring their intent for commitment in the eyes of the High Court, and their future union as the bond strengthened and grew would be uncontested by all who dwelled in the Immortal World.

Bill held Katrin's gaze and, with his right hand, withdrew his wand from where it was tucked away in his robes. He repeated her movements with one hand, the other guided the tip of his wand to meet his fingertips at his chest over his heart. He saw Katrin's grin falter slightly as she gnawed on her lip, for it was the moment of truth on so many fronts. After much discussion, Oberon and Jareth were not certain what would happen. For the Fae, it was a spell that could only be cast in the moment of the ceremony. Additionally, though the spell itself was explained in great detail, none of them were convinced the result would be the same even if Bill followed the exact steps. He had spent long hours into the nights since learning the details of this ceremony researching the concept of what he was about to attempt, but just over two weeks was not much time to find a satisfactory conclusion.

Still, in this moment, he felt calm, confident. Against reason, he trusted this ceremony completely. For, as Titania had proclaimed with a shrug, magic is magic and what is true will be revealed. Without faltering, he took a deep breath and drew his hand and his wand slowly away from his body. Connected to the tip of his wand, a stream of light came away. He cupped his left hand, aiming his wand at his palm. With a swirl, the light formed into a gently pulsing ball.

In the outer circle, a surprised and moderately impressed murmur circulated around those present.

As one, they spoke: "I surrender unto you the secret desires of my heart, releasing a part of my soul to join with yours. May it fill a void previously unknown, and you will never be alone as long as my heart beats. As long as my heart beats, know that it beats for you. For I am yours. You will never again be lost."

The ribbon of light pulsed at that same, new tempo, winding around them as they raised their left hands to touch, palm to palm. The ribbon wound higher around them before diving toward their hands and wrapping tightly. Then, in a flash, the light shot up their arms into their chests where it remained, cradling two hearts that now shared a single heartbeat.

* * *

"Well," said Sarah. "I can now safely say I am content that you and I never had to go through with that." She and Jareth were wandering through a large hall filled with the members of the High Court who had been in attendance. They were aiming to reach their daughter, who stood at the other end of the room with Bill, Oberon, and Titania.

"What, you do not think we would have passed so splendidly?"

"Oh, I have no doubt we would have been just fine. But, interesting as it was at points, it was also extremely tedious. And I am was not as patient a person with such things as I am now."

He stopped her, just short of their goal. "Sarah, you _still_ have no patience with 'such things'."

"Well, really. Can you blame me?" She extracted her arm from his and continued walking, picking up the conversation already in progress.

"I cannot help but wonder," Bill was asking, "how efficient is the questioning process of this ceremony?"

"How do you mean?" countered Titania.

"Well, you gave us the answers to practice so we would not get them wrong. Hardly seems effective in weeding out the," he searched for the right words, "pretenders, I suppose."

Oberon merely shook his head and said, dryly, "It is a mystery."

"Tsk." Sarah turned to Bill and stage-whispered, "That is his way of saying they started off as actual, honest questions, but done once it became marked as 'Tradition', and when you are Fae there's no bucking that."

Oberon regarded her, amused. "I get the feeling you are not taking these proceedings very seriously."

"On the contrary, I take what I just witnessed very seriously." She looked around the room. "The cocktail hour afterwards that we are all now enduring, on the other hand, is still up for discussion."

Oberon looked from Sarah, still dubiously regarding the room, to Katrin, who was stifling giggles behind a gloved hand, to Jareth, who gazed at the ceiling expressionless, to Bill, who looked caught his gaze and shrugged. Oberon sighed. "Cocktail hour?"

"Mm." Sarah nodded. "Sometimes I despair you people ever knowing how to truly celebrate. Here we are after what is clearly a very meaningful and important ceremony for Kati and Bill, and have they received a single congratulations from anyone outside those standing here with them? Doubtful. I think most of these guests came to see the bonding fail and, as that did not happen, are only remaining for the food. Seriously, does _nothing_ impress them? How often is it that a Mortal gets to participate in something like this, let alone succeed with what I understand are flying colors?"

Oberon held out one finger and opened his mouth as if to count the times, but no response came forward.

"Hm." Sarah glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "That's what I thought. But where is Chris?"

"Hiding, I believe," Bill offered. "He mentioned something about wanting to ditch his jacket for five minutes."

"I would suggest someone try to find him," Jareth said, "but I am sure he will return eventually. Besides, I believe it is time to, what is it you call it, Sarah? Mingle with the guests?"

"Yes." She grinned at him before turning to Titania. "I am going in search of bite-sized food on toothpicks. Would you care to join me?"

Titania blinked. "Certainly. But what is a 'tooth pick'?"

"Your wife has strange ideas," Oberon commented after the pair wandered off.

"I cannot deny it."

Several hours later, the six were back where they had started. Katrin sighed heavily. "If I never have to do that again it will be too soon."

"I thought it was all rather interesting," said Bill.

"Yes well, you had them captivated by the way you talk about magic." Katrin turned to the others. "He was so matter-of-fact every time someone tried to trip him up or questioned in that superior way whether his abilities could measure up to Far magic. Caught them off guard when he presented rather succinct and completely plausible counter arguments to anything they threw at him."

Bill shrugged again. "Theoretical magic happens to be a hobby of mine."

"Yeah I figured that one out. And I will only admit this once, but you lost me half the time."

Bill grinned. "You were bored."

"No! Well, okay yeah." Her admission made everyone chuckle.

Titania suddenly looked across the hall. "Curious."

Before anyone could ask about that comment, a window at the other end of the room opened and a bird with glorious plumeage flew in. It swooped low over the heads of the astounded Fae to land on a table in front of Bill. "_Fawkes_?"

"Is that a... Phoenix?" asked Sarah in wonder.

"Yes. Dumbledore's." Concern evident in his voice at the sight of this particular bird delivering a message here, Bill stepped forward to remove the note it grasped in its talons.

Titania reached over and scratched Fawkes on the head with one finger. "The depth of your loyalty speaks to your master's character. You may return to your tasks."

Fawkes bowed his head and spread his wings, flying back across the room and out the window.

"Bill, what is it?" Katrin had watched him pale as he read the note, the lowered it, staring into nothing.

"It's my father." He looked at her, then back to the note. "There's been an attack and he -" He looked at her again. "I need to go. My mother is already at the hospital, but..." He trailed off.

"Dad?"

"If I open the door into the apartment, can you get where you need to from there?"

"Yes. Thank you." He turned to Oberon and Titania. "Please excuse me, Your Majesties. I realize I should have asked -"

Oberon cut him off. "Go, with Our blessings and well wishes."

He bowed low. "Thank you." He looked back at Katrin and, with her smile, felt calm and reassured.

"I will be waiting for you," she said, touching his cheek.

Turning to a nearby window, Jareth opened the door Aboveground. Nearby, the Fae who overheard the conversation craned their necks to get a glimpse, though all that could be seen was the fireplace. Bill nodded at Jareth, bowed to Oberon once more, then gently kissed Katrin and walked through the doorway. As soon as he passed, it closed.


End file.
